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:■__._: :.._.. : •  ..  ._...•  .....      .   .   A 

LIBRARY 

OF   THK 

University  of  California. 

GIFT  OF" 

Received  <U-cft?I<       ..>  ,8vK- 

Accession  No.  7 22  fi  /u  5  .    Class  No. 


THE  LENTEN  SEASON. 


DISCOURSES 


RETIREMENT  AND  SELF-DENIAL. 


SELECTED   FROM    THE    WORKS   OF   THE   MOST   EMINENT 

ENGLISH    DIVINES   OF   THE   SEVENTEENTH   AND 

EIGHTEENTH   CENTURIES. 

THK 

"NIVERSITY 

FEOM  THE  LAST  LONDON   EDITION. 


NEW  YORK:    * 
THOMAS    N.    STANFORD, 

63T    BROADWAY. 


1857. 


yt+a^ 


INTRODUCTORY  ESSAY. 


What  machinery  is  to  man's  physical  powers— 
what  rules  are  to  his  memory,  and  other  intelligent 
faculties — such  is  discipline  to  his  moral  and  reli- 
gious being :  at  once  .the  evidence  and  support  of 
weakness.  Had  he  persevered  in  his  original  in- 
tegrity, stated  forms  and  observances  would  have 
been  as  needless  to  him,  as  artificial  reservoirs  and 
a  painful  system  of  irrigation,  in  "  a  land  of  brooks 
and  fountains,"  and  amid  the  "  sound  of"  a  perpe- 
tual "  abundance  of  rain."  In  the  Paradisiacal  state, 
every  day  was  a  day  of  worship ;  every  spot  was 
sacred :  the  sun  no  sooner  rose,  than  its  light  was 
a  summons  to  prayer :  every  opening  glade,  and 
embowered  valley,  presented  a  temple ;  for  at  all 
times/and  in  all  places,  the  pious  heart  overflowed 
with  love  to  its  Maker,  and  the  grateful  tongue 
was  ready  to  offer  its  sacrifice  of  prayer  and  praise. 
But  man  fell ;  and  sin  entered  into  the  world, 
and  labour,  and  sorrow      A  thousand  necessities 


Vlll  INTRODUCTORY    ESSAY. 

now  distracted  his  attention ;  a  thousand  desires 
engrossed  his  heart.  He  was  continually  drawn 
aside  from  meditation  upon  great  and  enduring 
things,  and  from  the  care  of  his-  nobler  being,  in 
search  of  individual  enjoyment,  or  by  the  urgency 
of  domestic  wants.  In  proportion  as  societies  mul- 
tiplied, and  civilization  advanced,  these  tendencies 
and  necessities  increased ;  for  when  men  congre- 
gate together,  in  cities  and  large  communities,  it  is 
not  in  order  to  be  taught  to  think,  or  stimulated  to 
devotion,  but  to  seek  pleasure ;  to  contrive  by  the 
combined  ingenuity  of  many  the  most  efficient 
methods  of  averting  misery  ;  to  accumulate  wealth, 
and  to  extend  and  consolidate  power : — in  short,  if 
left  to  themselves,  they  inevitably  become  more 
and  more  absorbed  in  the  objects  and  occupations 
of  the  present,  and  daily  grow  more  disinclined  to 
look  into  or  above  themselves,  for  such  as  relate  to 
things  permanent  and  imperishable.  Hence,  but 
for  seasons  and  methods  of  stated  recalment  from 
the  importunites  of  worldly  pursuits,  there  will  ever 
be  among  the  multitude  a  swift  and  unvarying 
progress  in  infidelity  and  vice.  That  the  whole 
antediluvian  race  had,  in  so  few  generations,  "  cor 
rupted  themselves,"  and  turned  from  God,  can  be 
accounted  for  only  by  the  self-productive  quality 
of  evil,  in  a  rapidly  increasing  population,  as  yet 
unsubjected  to  the  wholesome  restraints  of  positive 
ordinances. 


INTRODUCTORY   ESSAY.  IX 

The  like  tendency,  which  so  quickly  made  its 
appearance  among  the  descendants  of  Noah,  was 
mercifully  arrested  by  the  origination  of  various 
languages  in  the  plains  of  Mesopotamia,  and  by 
the  disposition  to  emigrate,  to  which  that  mysterious 
event  gave  rise.  But  when  they  too  had  greatly 
multiplied,  and  numerous  communities  were  spread 
far  and  wide,  on  all  sides,  from  the  central  point  of 
population,  then  had  arrived  the  period  when  the 
knowledge  of  God,  and  the  hope  of  a  promised  Deli- 
verer could  no  longer  be  maintained  in  their  purity, 
without  some  system  which  should  convert  the  social 
fabric  itself  into  an  artificial  defence  for  their  pre- 
servation against  the  inroads  of  surrounding  dark- 
ness and  impending  barbarism.  A  solitary  line  of 
inspired  patriarchs  was  no  longer  sufficient  to  guard 
the  hallowed  flame  upon  the  altar  nor  the  simple 
economy  of  a  household,  an  adequate  provision 
for  its  ministry.  From  these,  therefore,  a  nation 
was  raised  up,  set  apart,  and  furnished  for  the  pur- 
pose with  a  system  of  exclusive  ordinances,  the 
elaborateness  of  whose  details,  no  less  than  the 
awful  grandeur  of  its  sanctions,  fully  evinces  the 
difficulty  and  importance  of  the  trust  committed  to 
it,  as  the  sole  depository  of  revealed  truth,  during 
fifteen  hundred  years  of  political  change,  and  of 
moral  and  theological  eclipse,  in  the  world  around. 

The  religious  observances  of  the  Jews  were  of  a 
character  consistent  with  this  design.    The  conse- 


X  INTRODUCTORY    ESSAY. 

quences  of  sin  were  to  be  averted  by  the  interven- 
tion of  the  priest;  by  the  performance  of  public 
expiatory  rites,  (rites,  however,  the  efficacy  of  which 
belonged  to  them  only  in  their  character  of  sym- 
bols )  rather  than  to  the  heartfelt  penitence  of  the 
offender.  Though  '  by  the  law  is  the  knowledge 
of  sin ;'  though  the  sternness  of  its  language  and 
the  rigour  of  its  exactions,  sufficiently  declared  to 
the  nation  their  own  sad  deserts,  and  the  strictness 
of  the  divine  justice;  yet  but  few  of  its  ordinances 
relate  to  the  parts  and  instruments  of  true  repent- 
ance. Only  one  day  of  solemn  humiliation  was 
appointed  to  be  observed  yearly.  Custom,  indeed, 
and  the  authority  of  the  heads  of  the  people, 
added  others,  from  time  to  time,  as  marks  of  afflic- 
tion and  mourning  for  national  calamities.  Of 
individual  abstinence  and  humiliation,  we  have 
numerous  instances  recorded  of  pious  Hebrews, 
in  every  period  of  the  Commonwealth ;  and  it  is 
evident,  from  the  references  made  to  the  sub- 
ject in  the  Gospels,  that  frequent  fasts,  and  other 
acts  of  mortification,  were  regarded  in  our  Lord's 
time,  and  long  had  been,  as  essential  parts  of 
piety.  (Matt.  vi.  16,  18;  ix.  14;  Luke,  xviii.  22.) 

With  the  abolition  of  the  Hebrew  ritual,  no  ob- 
servance was  allowed  to  perish,  which  possessed 
such  a  moral  force,  or  was  capable  of  such  general 
application,  as  rendered  it  of  value  for  all  persons 
and  for  all  ages.     The  things  which  *  decayed  and 


INTRODUCTORY    ESSAY.  XI 

waxed  old,  and  vanished  away/  were  allowed  to 
do  so,  because  with  the  change  of  circumstances, 
and  the  giving  of  'a  better  dispensation,'  they 
had  become  needless,  inapplicable,  or  inefficient. 
The  fabric  of  the  Mosaic  rites  and  ceremonies  fell, 
because  it  was  fitted  exclusively  for  a  nation  which 
was  no  longer  to  exist  in  a  condition,  or  with  a  pur- 
pose, that  would  require  or  admit  its  continuance. 
Whatever  tended,  however,  to  moral  improvement, 
by  promoting  personal  sanctity,  and  intercourse 
with  God,  was  to  remain 

Hence  the  respect  with  which  our  Saviour  spoke 
of  Fasting.  He  did  not  enjoin  it  upon  his  imme- 
diate disciples — at  least,  during  his  abode  among 
them.  The  mission  of  John  the  Baptist  was  peni- 
tential and  preparatory.  The  Messiah's  advent 
was  ushered  in  by  '  the  sign  of  the  prophet  Jonah ;' 
that  is,  by  a  call  to  repentance  and  humiliation; 
but  our  Lord  put,  in  this  respect,  a  marked  distinc- 
tion between  his  own  mission  and  that  of  his  pre- 
cursor. When  reproached  that  his  disciples  did 
not  fast  so  often  as  those  of  the  pharisees,  or  of 
John,  he  answered,  that  f  the  children  of  the  bride- 
chamber  ought  not  to  fast  while  the  bridegroom 
was  with  them ;  but/  added  he,  '  the  days  will 
come  when  the  bridegroom  shall  be  taken  away 
from  them,  and  then  shall  they  fast/  He  denies 
not — nay,  he  admits  by  implication,  the  propriety 
of  the  observance  at  fitting  seasons.    The  same  is 


Xll  INTRODUCTORY   ESSAY. 

the  inference  from  the  sermon  on  the  mount ;  for 
though  he  enjoined  upon  that  occasion  no  particular 
or  stated  period  of  abstinence,  he  yet  gives  direc- 
tions for  observing  this  discipline,  as  an  occasional 
duty,  with  sincerity,  and  an  avoidance  of  hypocri- 
tical display.  And  by  his  miraculous  fast  of  forty 
days'  duration,  while  exercised  with  temptations  ot 
peculiar  violence,  he  bequeathed  to  the  church, 
what  in  every  age  it  has  regarded  as  an  example  of 
the  utility— in  some  cases,  the  necessity — of  such 
external  aids  to  the  regulation  of  those  appetites 
and  affections  which,  while  in  the  world,  so  easily 
betray  us  into  sin;  and  to  prepare  the  mind  for 
future  virtuous  exertions. 

Much  angry  discussion  respecting  the  constitu- 
tion and  discipline  of  the  Christian  church,  in  the 
apostolic  age,  might  have  been  spared,  had  the 
contending  parties  previously  agreed  upon  these 
two  obvious  facts : — first,  that  the  religious  senti- 
ments of  the  Christians  of  the  first  century  were 
too  pure,  and  their  zeal  too  ardent,  either  greatly 
to  need  the  stimulus  supplied  by  positive  institu- 
tions, or  to  bear  the  coercive  force  of  authoritative 
discipline :  secondly,  that  the  external  condition 
of  the  new  community  allowed  of  no  observances 
beyond  the  most  simple  and  essential.  Outward 
forms  and  helps  to  devotion  are  needless,  where  the 
inward  principle,  in  their  tendency  to  sustain  and 
promote  which  lies  their  only  worth,  exists  already 


INTRODUCTORY    ESSAY.  Xlll 

in  the  plenitude  of  its  power,  As  long  as  the  fer- 
vent spirit  of  piety  retained  its  primitive  lustre  un- 
clouded, what  occasion  could  there  be  for  the 
imposition  of  onerous  observances  ?  Custom  and 
ceremony,  peculiar  seasons  for  awakening  and 
demonstrating  religious  feeling,  were  little  regard- 
ed, until  the  declining  ardour  of  the  Christian 
body  sought — because  it  felt  that  it  then  wanted — 
such  extraneous  assistances. 

That  from  the  times  of  the  apostles,  however, 
two  remarkable  institutions,  designed  for  this  pur- 
pose, were  in  existence,  has  been  often  shown : 
These  are — the  dedication  of  the  first  day  of  the  week 
to  works  of  piety  and  services  of  religious  gratitude, 
in  memory  of  our  Saviour's  resurrection ;  and  the 
annual  appropriation  of  a  certain  period  to  the 
several  parts  of  the  discipline  of  repentance.  As 
the  season  appointed  for  this  latter  appears  to  have 
always  immediately  preceded  the  anniversary  of 
the  crucifixion,  it  has  obtained  in  our  language  the 
name  of  Lent — from  the  Saxon  word  lengten  or 
lenten — spring.1      That  the  Lent   fast   is  of  the 

1  The  occurrence  of  the  quadragesimal  fast  at  this  particular 
season  could  hardly  fail  to  be  turned  to  a  moral  account  by  the 
pious  fancy  of  the  Fathers  :  "  Ut,"  observes  Ambrose,.  "  in  qua- 
dragesima  constricta  hiemali  gelu  terra  resolvitur,  et  aquarum 
fluenta  meatus  suos,  glacie  liquefacta,  recipiunt ;  sic  quoque 
corporum  nostrorum  hoc  eodum  tempore  contracta  sceleribus 
peccata  solvuntur,  et  vita  nostrae  purior  cursus,  liquefacto  rigore 
diaboli,  meatum  suum  pristinum  recognoscit."— As  in  Lent  the 
earth  is  freed  from  the  constraint  of  the  winter's  frost,  and  upon 


XIV  INTRODUCTORY    ESSAY. 

highest  antiquity  in  the  church,  cannot  be  doubted. 
In  the  celebrated  dispute  between  the  eastern  and 
western  churches,  respecting  Easter,  which  was 
concluded  by  the  authority  of  the  Council  of  Nice, 
in  325,  both  the  contending  parties  agreed  that  a 
fast  ought  to  precede  it ;  the  subject  of  the  dispute 
being,  in  fact,  on  what  day  the  fast  should  termi- 
nate ;  and  it  is  evident  from  the  language  used  on 
this  subject,  by  the  early  Christian  writers,  those 
of  this  century  especially,  that  it  was  universally 
observed  as  of  apostolical  authority.  As  no  ac- 
count of  its  origin  is  extant,  no  probable  evidence 
can  be  adduced  in  opposition  to  this  opinion.1 
Whether  from  its  first  institution  it  was  of  forty 
days'  duration,  cannot  be  so  easily  ascertained. 
That  this  was  the  period  assigned  to  it,  however,  at 
the  time  of  the  Council  of  Nice,  appears  from 
the  name  given  to  it  in  the  decree  of  that  assem- 
bly, the  same  by  which  it  has  been  universally 
known  in  the  church  in  later  times.8  It  would 
seem,  however,  that  the  period  long  varied  according 

the  thawing  of  the  ice  the  streams  renew  their  course ;  so  in  the 
same  season  is  the  sinner  set  free  from  the  bondage  of  guilt,  and 
his  life,  no  longer  frost-bound  as  it  were  by  Satan,  resumes  its 
pristine  course,  in  purity. — Serm.  xii.  de  Sancta  Quad. 

1  Bishop  Gunning,  in  his  "  Paschal,  or  Lent  Fast  Apostolical 
and  Perpetual,"  cites  a  long  array  of  the  Fathers  of  the  earliest 
times  and  highest  credit,  from  Irenaeus,  downward,  in  favour  of 
its  apostolic  origin. 

*  SvvoSoi  yiveffOuxrav  fxia  fiiv  irpb  ti)q  TtaopaKorijg. — 
Can.  5 


INTRODUCTORY   ESSAY.  XV 

to  different  times  and  places,  but  was  finally  deter- 
mined as  we  at  present  observe  it,  viz.  as  including 
forty  days,  without  reckoning-  Sundays,  on  which 
it  has  never  been  the  custom  of  the  church  to  fast. 
This  number  was  most  likely  fixed  in  imitation  of 
Moses  and  Elias;  but,  more  particularly,  of  our 
Lord's  fast  of  forty  days  in  the  wilderness.1 

The  discipline  practised  in  the  primitive  ages 
during  Lent,  was  directed  to  the  following  objects: 
— to  fit  the  whole  body  of  the  faithful,  or  Christians 
already  baptized,  for  receiving  the  Lord's  Supper 
in  the  celebration  of  Easter,  by  acts  of  mortification, 
repentance,  and  public  devotion;  to  prepare  the 
catechumens  for  admission  into  the  church  by 
baptism  ;  and  to  exercise  penitent  offenders  in  the 
discipline  necessary  before  absolution.  Great  re- 
liance was  placed  in  the  efficacy  of  fasting ;  none 
but  infants  or  persons  infirm  from  age  or  other 
causes  being  allowed  to  taste  food  till  the  afternoon, 
on  any  day  except  Sunday.2  All  public  games 
and  amusements  were  prohibited  with  the  utmost 
severity.3     After  the  establishment  of  Christianity 

1  Chrysost.  Horn.  prim,  in  Genes. 

2  Moneo  et  contestor  vos,  ut  nullus  vestrum,  nisi  forte  sit  in- 
firmus,  aut  infans,  et  nisi  in  dominicis  diebus,  ante  nonam  man- 
ducet  aut  bibat. — Ambr.  Ser.  ix.  in  Sanct.  Quad. 

3  Chrysost.  Horn.  vi.  and  vii.  in  Gen.  In  the  former  of  these 
discourses  the  eloquent  Father  severely  reproaches  the  people  of 
Antioch  for  being  present  at  the  games  of  the  circus  during 
Lent. 


XVI  INTRODUCTORY   ESSAY 

as  the  religion  of  the  state,  the  civil  power  vied 
with  the  ecclesiastical  in  respect  for  this  solemn  sea- 
son. The  Theodosian  code  forbids  all  prosecution 
at  this  time  for  criminal  actions,  which  might  sub- 
ject the  offender  to  torture.  As  the  close  of  the 
forty  days  approached,  the  severity  of  the  observ- 
ance was  increased  in  proportion.  The  week  im- 
mediately preceding  Easter,  our  "  Passion  Week," 
called  by  the  early  Christians  the  "  Great"  or 
"Holy  Week,"1  was  entirely  employed  in  devotion 
and  the  distribution  of  alms,  and  was  marked  by 
a  more  rigid  abstinence.  Servants  were  allowed 
relaxation  from  labour,  all  legal  processes  were  sus- 
pended, and  the  prison  doors  were  thrown  open, 
and  prisoners  released,  except  in  particular  cases.* 
The  communion  was  twice  administered  on  the 
Thursday ;  and,  on  Good  Friday,  the  absolution  of 
penitents  appears  to  have  taken  place.  At  all 
other  seasons,  Saturday,  as  well  as  Sunday,  was  es- 
teemed a  festival;  but  the  Saturday  following  the 
day  of  the  crucifixion  was  observed  by  a  strict  fast, 
which  was  continued  till  day-break  on  Sunday,  the 
supposed  time  of  our  Lord's  resurrection.  The 
night  was  passed  in  a  solemn  vigil,  in  which  the 
assembled  faithful  prayed,  read  the  Scriptures, 
sang  psalms,  preached,  and  baptized  the  Catechu- 
mens. 

1  Chrys.  Horn.  xxx.  in  Gen.  2  Id.  Ibid, 


INTRODUCTORY   ESSAY.  XVli 

From  these  holy  exercises  great  benefits  fol- 
lowed, in  the  early  periods  of  the  church.  The 
seriousness  and  severity  with  which  they  were 
enforced  made  a  deep  impression  upon  men's 
minds,  restraining  them  from  readily  falling  into 
sin,  at  least  for  a  time ;  they  were  the  means  of 
renewing  the  intercourse  of  the  soul  with  God,  of 
reanimating  the  faith  of  languishing  believers,  by 
fixing  their  minds  upon  the  great  sacrifice  for  sin, 
and  of  receiving  fresh  supplies  of  grace.  Hence  much 
of  the  remarkable  piety  and  strict  holiness  of  the 
primitive  ages  has  been  attributed,  and  with  seem- 
ing justice,  to  the  effect  of  this  annual  solemnity. 
What  greatly  tended,  no  doubt,  to  that  happy  re- 
sult, was  the  choice  of  this  period  by  the  bishops 
and  pastors  of  the  church,  as  the  fittest  to  incul- 
cate from  the  pulpit,  not  only  those  lessons  which 
related  to  the  effectual  observation  of  Lent,  but  the 
general  doctrines  and  duties  of  the  Christian  pro- 
fession. This  indeed  was  the  season  principally 
appropriated  to  preaching :  few  sermoas  were  de- 
livered at  any  other ;  and  therefore  it  is  that  we 
meet  with  so  large  a  proportion  of  Lent  discourses* 
in  the  works  of  Basil,  Chrysostom,  Ambrose,  Au 
gustine,  and  others  of  the  Fathers.      * 

In  the  extravagant  importance,  however,  which 
came  to  be  ascribed  to  the  services  of  this  season, — 
in  thus  collecting  into  one  brief  period  those  de- 

b 


XViU  INTRODUCTORY    ESSAY. 

vout  exercises  which  were  to  nourish  the  souls  of 
believers,  and  secure  the  integrity  of  their  morals, 
throughout  the  year, — we  may  discover  the  seeds 
of  that  superstitious  reverence,  which  subsequently 
reduced  the  sacred  observances  of  the  Lent  Fast 
to  vain  and  even  impious  forms.  The  writings 
of  the  Fathers  abound  in  magnificent  and  over- 
strained eulogies,  in  which  an  efficacy  is  ascribed 
to  the  devotions  of  this  season  far  superior  to  every 
other. 

The  tendency  of  such  exaggerations,  in  their 
effect  upon  the  minds  of  the  ignorant,  though  un- 
suspected by  their  pious  authors,  is  to  us  suf- 
ficiently obvious.  No  wonder,  therefore,  if, .  when 
the  whole  of  religion  degenerated  into  formal 
ceremony,  the  period  of  Lent  was  distinguished 
above  every  other  by  those  '  bodily  exercises  which 
profit  nothing,'  and  by  formalities  which  affect 
the  senses  while  they  stupify  the  judgment  and 
corrupt  the  heart.  So  long  as  the  mere  exter- 
nal form  was  found  to  be  sufficient  to  maintain 
the  minds  of  the  people  in  imbruted  subjection, 
their  teachers  cared  not  that  the  essential  principle, 
which  alone  imparted  to  them  their  value,  had 
fled.  Thus  It  was,  as  regarded  the  useful  but 
abused  discipline  of  fasting :  the  end  of  the  ordi- 
nance was  defeated,  by  shifting  the  essential  point 
of  it,  from  entire  abstinence  or  extreme  tempe- 


INTRODUCTORY   ESSAY.  XIX 

ranee,  to  a  mere  change  in  the  material  of  the  in- 
dulgence. Flesh  was  indeed  rigorously  avoided, 
but  pains  were  at  the  same  time  taken  to  furnish, 
from  other  viands,  delicacies  yet  more  flattering  to 
the  appetite — the  exact  abuse  denounced  by  our 
Lord,  among  the  pharisees,  whose  fastings  were 
for  hypocritical  display,  to  win  praise  from  those 
who  looked  but  to  the  letter  of  the  ordinance.1 
Again  penance,  which,  though  occasionally  objec- 
tionable, on  the  ground  of  extreme  the  rigour  with 
which  it  was  imposed  by  the  primitive  discipli- 
narians, was  of  powerful  aid  in  preserving  the 
purity  of  the  church,  degenerated  at  last  into  a 
merely  formal  confession  of  all  persons,  whether 
in  the  condition  of  penitents  or  not;  from  whom 
the  only  sign  of  repentance  required,  was  that 
they  should  comply  with  the  empty  ceremony 
of  having  their  heads  sprinkled  with  ashes.  It 
is  from  this  custom  that  the  name  of  Ash-Wed- 
nesday is  derived.8  Many  puerile  customs  dis- 
tinguished the  several  divisions  of  Lent,  calcu- 
lated only  to  amuse  the  vulgar,  and  divert  the  at- 


1  Mattvi. 
*  The  ashes  used  on  this  occasion,  were  obtained  from  the 
palms,  blessed  on  the  Palm  Sunday  of  the  preceding  year..  The 
annual  ceremony  of  placing  ashes  on  the  heads  of  the  pope,  cardi- 
nals, prelates,  &c.  at  Rome,  is  still  one  of  the  most  solemn  cere- 
monies in  the  Papal  church. 

b2 


XX  INTRODUCTORY    ESSAY. 

tention  of  the  worshippers  from  the  proper  so- 
lemnities of  the  time ;  and  we  may  doubt  which, 
in  our  own  days,  are  more  injurious  to  the  minds 
of  the  people,  whether  the  folly  and  levity  of  the 
Popish  carnival,  or  the  pompous  exhibitions  and 
profane  shows  which  diversify  the  succeeding  pe- 
riod of  mortification. 

Together  with  the  other  corrupt  and  supersti- 
tious observances  that  had  found  their  way  into 
the  church  of  Rome,  our  reformers  discarded  all 
those  which  deformed  this  holy  season.  They  re- 
stored the  use  of  fasting,  according  to  the  cus- 
tom of  the  earliest  ages ; l  but  probably  feeling 
that,  after  such  an  interval  of  laxity,  the  people 
were  no  longer  in  a  condition  to  bear  the  reimpo- 
sing  of  so  severe  a  yoke,  the  ancient  discipline  of 
penance  was  omitted.  Not,  however,  to  leave  the 
Lent  of  the  reformed  church  unmarked  by  any 
observance  proper  to  recall  sinners  to  a  due  sense 
of  their   fearful  condition,  and  to   deter    others, 

1  The  stated  times  for  abstinence,  besides  the  great  annual  fast 
of  Lent,  are — the  three  Rogation  days,  (from  rogationes,  supplica- 
tions,) or  those  which  immediately  precede  our  Lord's  ascension ; 
the  Ember  days,  (a  word  of  doubtful  origin,  but  probably  refer- 
ring to  the  custom  of  sitting  upon  ashes,  or  sprinkling  the  head 
with  them,  as  an  act  of  humiliation  and  penance,)  viz.  the 
Wednesday,  Friday,  and  Saturday,  in  the  weeks  after  the  first 
Sunday  in  Lent,  after  Whit-Sunday,  after  September  14th,  anc' 
December  13th  ;  to  which  are  added  all  the  Fridays  in  the  yea*, 
in  memory  of  the  crucifixion. 


INTRODUCTORY    ESSAY.  XXI 

they  substituted  the  service  for  Ash-Wednesday, 
entitled  a  "  Commination,  or  denouncing  of  God's 
anger  against  sin."1  It  would  appear,  however,  that 
this  insufficient  substitute  for  penitentiary  disci- 
pline was  only  to  be  used,  "  until,"  in  the  words  of 
the  compilers,  *  the  said  discipline  may  be  restored 
again,  which  is  much  to  be  wished :" — "  to  be 
wished,  rather  than  expected,  in  these  licentious 
times,"  subjoins  the  commentator  on  our  book  of 
Common  Prayer ;  *  and,  alas  !  the  period  that  has 
since  elapsed,  without  lessening  the  necessity,  has 
greatly  diminished  the  probability,  of  this  desi- 
rable restoration  ! 

The  neglect,  and,  in  too  many  cases,  the  con- 
tempt, into  which  the  solemn  observance  of 
Lent  has  fallen,  is  one  of  the  multitude  of  in- 
stances in  which  extremes  beget  extremes.  When 
the  early  writers  lavished  their  panegyrics  upon 
this  "divine  medicine  of  the  soul,"  and  repre- 
sented that  by  the  penitence  of  the  quadragesimal 
period  the  sins  of  all  the  rest  of  the  year  were  to 
be  removed,  they  were  preparing  the  way  for  those 
superstitious  abuses  which,  in  their  turn,  produced 


1  As  this  service,  the  propriety  of  which  has  been  often  con- 
troverted, still  continues  to  give  offence  to  not  a  few  well-mean- 
ing persons,  room  has  been  spared  in  the  present  volume  for  a 
Sermon,  (Sermon  II.)  in  which  the  reader  will  find  the  whole 
question  satisfactorily  discussed.] 

*  Wheatly. 


XX11  INTRODUCTORY    ESSAY. 

our  present  worse  than  indifference.  When,  for  exam- 
ple, the  primitive  discipline  of  fasting  was  degraded 
into  a  mere  mockery  of  abstinence  from  some  parti- 
cular kinds  of  meats,  while,  at  the  same  time,  the 
whole  design  and  principle  of  the  ordinance  were 
abandoned,   we  cannot  wonder  that  plain,   well- 
meaning  Christians  began  to  look  upon   it  alto- 
gether as  a  vain  superstition.     To  regard  it  in  this 
light  appeared,  to  too  many,  a  mark  of  the  sincerity 
of  their  Protestantism ;  and  when  hostility  to  a  rival 
church  was  leagued  with  man's  natural  repugnance 
to  mortification  and  self-denial,  the  result  was  what 
might  have  been  anticipated.     Yet  we  may  plead, 
in  favour  of  this  ordinance,  both  an  obvious  use- 
fulness, and  a  sanction,  if  not  a  command,  from 
the  highest  authority.     Why,  if  fasting  were  that 
indifferent,  or  even  ridiculous  ceremonial,  which 
it   is   the   fashion  to  consider   it,    did   our  Lord 
himself  give   directions   about  the  manner  of  its 
observance  ?    and  how  came   he  to  rank  it   with 
prayer  and  almsgiving,  two  of  the  most  indispen- 
sable duties  of  the  Christian ;  directing  us  at  the 
same  time,  and  in  equivalent  terms,  to  pray,  to  fast, 
and  to  give  alms  ? '     The  utility  of  abstinence,  as  a 
means   of  subduing  our  earthly  to  our   spiritual 
being,   is   strongly   urged   by   the   apostle   of  the 
Gentiles,  from  his  own  example;    who  certainly 

1  Matt.  vi. 


INTRODUCTORY    ESSAY.  XX111 

might  better  have  dispensed  with  such  a  restraint 
than  many  of  those  who  hold  it  in  irreverent  dis- 
regard :  '  I  keep  my  body  under/  says  he,  '  and 
bring  it  into  subjection.'  So  important  an  instru- 
ment and  means  of  piety  has  it  in  all  ages  been 
deemed,  until  our  own  or  very  recent  times,  that 
no  Christian  church  has  existed,  in  which  fasts,  es- 
pecially at  this  season,  have  not  been  imposed  and 
strictly  practised.  We  must  not  flatter  ourselves 
that  our  modern  scorn  of  this  discipline  is  to  be 
ascribed  to  the  essential  power  of  religion  in  the 
mind  rendering  its  aid  needless ;  but  rather  to  the 
general  impatience  of  authority,  to  the  conceit  of 
partial  knowledge,  and  to  that  indifference  to  the 
object  proposed,  which  of  course  extends  itself  to 
the  means  of  its  attainment.  In  our  advanced 
stage  of  civilization,  amid  the  ever-enlarging  circle 
of  objects  which  engage  the  attention  and  stimulate 
the  passions  of  mankind,  the  heart  continually  be- 
comes more  and  more  liable  to  be  drawn  away 
from  the  pursuits  and  hopes  of  religion.  Those 
periodical  observances  and  positive  forms,  there- 
fore, which  have  a  tendency  to  confine  the  affec- 
tions, and  fix  and  arrest  the  distracted  thoughts, 
ought  to  be  cherished  and  enforced  with  propor- 
tionate care  and  assiduity. 

The  advantages  of  this  institution,  then,  are  evi- 
dent.    As  certainly  as  the  revolving  year  comes 


XXIV  INTRODUCTORY    ESSAY. 

round,   it  arrests  the  attention  of  the  worldling, 
buried  in  the  multitude  of  his  temporal  pursuits, 
and   recalls  the   sinner   from    his   evil    way.     As 
often   as   the   first   day   of  the  solemn  period  of 
Lent  arrives,  a  voice  resounds  through  our  Chris- 
tian community,  which  proclaims  the  heinousness 
of  transgression,  the  terrors  of  divine  justice,  the 
inevitableness  of  impending  judgment  upon  unre- 
pented  transgression.     Thus  brought  to  a  sense  of 
our    condition     and    prospects,     as    having    '  all 
offended,'  we   are  invited   to  seek   retirement  for 
a  season  from  the  cares  and  seductions  of  life, — to 
examine  our  past  course — to  ascertain  the  state  of 
our  hearts  and  minds — to  call  ourselves  to  account, 
and  take  that  naked  and  impartial  view  of  what  we 
are,  which  is  taken  by  the  Almighty  himself.  This,  if 
performed  with  tolerable  fairness  and  sincerity,  will 
not  fail  to  lay  open  to  our  consciences  so  many  evi- 
dences of  frailty,   such   marks  of  guilt,  as  must 
force  us  to  sorrow  and  confession.     We  shall  come 
to  the  footstool  of  the  Divine  mercy,  acknowledging 
our  utter  unworthiness ;  and,  with  repentant  tears 
and  resolutions  of  amendment,  implore— not  only 
pardon  for  the  past,  but  strength  to  stand  fast  for 
the  time  to  come.     We  shall  willingly  afflict  our- 
selves, shall  mourn  in  the  dust  and  ashes  of  un- 
feigned humility,  and  shall  heartily  acknowledge, 
while  under  these  salutary  convictions,  that  what- 


INTRODUCTORY  ESSAY.  XXV 

soever  purifying  trials  our  God  may  bring  upon 
us,  they  must  needs  be  less  than  we  have  deserved, 
and  but  a  gracious  and  healthful  discipline,  calcu- 
lated for  our  real  good. 

Looking  forward  now  to  the  awful  solemnities 
which  are  collected  together  towards  the  close  of 
the  season,  we  endeavour  to  animate  our  faith  and 
confirm  our  feeble  resolutions,  by  directing  oar  view 
to  him, '  who  has  left  us  an  example,  that  the  same 
mind  should  be  in  us  which  was  also  in  him.' 
Our  Saviour  passing  triumphantly  through  un- 
equalled temptation,  and  submitting  to  unpa- 
ralleled sorrow,  presents  a  spectacle  at  once  melt- 
ing and  ennobling.  We  learn  of  him  to  say,  in  all 
our  afflictions,  '  Father,  not  my  will,  but  thine  be 
done !' '  Then  is  felt  the  efficacy  of  prayer — its 
softening,  sanctifying,  strengthening  efficacy.  We 
supplicate  the  Holy  Spirit  to  be  with  us  in  our 
afflictions, — to  remove  from  us  the  cup  of  intoler- 
able misery,  and  to  lighten  such  as  may  and  must 
be  borne,  by  sanctifying  it  and  blessing  it  to  us. 
But  the  period  advances;  and  now  the  penitent  is 
prepared  to  look  with  purer  eyes  and  a  deeper  in- 
terest upon  his  suffering  Lord ;  and  now  the  gather- 
ing darkness  which  frowns  and  lowers  over  the 
mountain  of  the  cross,  rivets  his  attention,  and 
fixes  his  whole  soul  upon  that  most  touching  spec- 
tacle, the  death  of  the  Redeemer,  who  '  was  deli- 
vered for  us,'  that  we  by  him  and   through  him 


XXVI  INTRODUCTORY    ESSAY. 

'might  possess  all  things/  Behold,  now,  the  won- 
drous close ! — the  deepest  mystery  of  triumphant 
love — God  agonized  for  man !  Yet,  restrain  we  a  vain 
and  misplaced  compassion.  Let  us  not  presume  to 
weep  for  him  but '  for  ourselves  and  our  children' — 
for  our  fallen  race,  the  guilty  cause  of  all  that  we  here 
contemplate.  With  these  profound  but  chastened 
impressions,  we  may  now  draw  nigher,  and  look 
more  narrowly  on  that  divine  victim  for  sin, '  whose 
visage  was  marred  more  than  any  man's,  and  his 
form  more  than  the  sons  of  men.' '  We  may  wit- 
ness the  intensity  of  his  sufferings,  and  take  thence 
the  estimate  of  his  measureless  mercy — of  our  un- 
fathomable guilt — of  our  unutterable  danger !  Yet 
is  this  sight  of  woe,  a  sight,  at  the  same  time,  ot 
gladness.  How  do  we  rejoice  in  it,  amidst  our  tears ! 
Beginning  to  look  forward,  again,  from  the  grave 
in  which  we  see  him  deposited,  to  his  approaching 
resurrection,  we  now  remember,  that  if  we  would 
be  '  quickened  with  him'  we  must  likewise  die 
with  him — die  to  sin — die  to  self — die  to  the 
world — die  to  all  things  that  were,  and  are,  his  foes. 
Withdrawn  again  by  no  unhallowed  curiosity,  from 
these  contemplations  on  our  own  immediate  in- 
terest in  the  atonement,  we  follow  in  imagination 
the  crucified  Saviour,  who  for  a  time  has  laid  aside 
the  burdensome  veil  of  flesh,  which   he   had  as- 

«  Isaiah,  lii.  14. 


INTRODUCTORY   ESSAY.  XXVU 

sumed.  Our  pious  thoughts  accompany  him  into 
the  mysterious  abodes  of  departed  souls,  where 
he  sojourns  for  a  time  among  'the  spirits  in 
prison,'  worjking  even  in  that  lower  world  of  bodi- 
less intelligences  the  '  work  which  his  Father  gave 
him  to  accomplish ;'  prepared,  however,  soon  to 
resume  for  a  space  his  sojourn  here  on  earth,  by  a 
resurrection,  in  which  he  S  leads  captivity  captive/ 
and  vanquishes  death — '  the  last  enemy  that  shall 
be  destroyed.' 

The  course  of  devout  exercises  thus  slightly 
sketched,  it  is  the  design  of  the  present  volume  to 
assist.  It  would  have  been  easy  to  make  the  selec- 
tion consist  more  exclusively  of  what  are  usually 
called  Lent  Sermons ;  but  the  opinion  of  the  Editor 
was,  that  the  series  would  be  more  likely  to  prove 
interesting  and  profitable  to  the  reader,  by  taking 
in  a  wider  range  both  of  authors  and  subjects. 

Should  it  be  alleged,  as  an  objection  to  the 
volume,  that  the  discourses  it  comprises  are  brought 
together  from  writers  of  diverse  tenets  and  opinions 
on  important  points,  the  answer  is,  first,  that  it 
was  intended  to  comprise  an  epitome  of  all  that 
our  best  sermon- writers  have  left,  upon  "  subjects 
proper  for  Christian  consideration  during  the  season 
of  Lent ;"  secondly,  that  the  Editor  has  endeavoured, 
notwithstanding,  to  avert  the  force  of  the  objec- 
tion, by  taking  care  not  to  select  from  the  several 


XXV111  INTRODUCTORY   ESSAY. 

authors — especially  from  such  as  may  be  of  sus- 
pected orthodoxy — any  of  those  productions,  in 
which  their  objectionable  bias  is  apparent.  The 
book  presents,  therefore,  great  and  characteristic 
variety,  in  every  way,  without,  it  is  hoped,  an  offen- 
sive absence  of  harmony  in  style  and  manner,  or 
considerable  contrariety  of  statement. 

The  Editor,  in  conclusion,  will  be  much  misun- 
derstood, if  any  of  the  preceding  remarks  lead  the 
reader  to  suppose  his  desire  is  to  see  the  revival  of 
a  system  of  morals  that  could  be  justly  condemned 
as  ascetic.  Such  would  assuredly  not  be  his  aim, 
were  he  gifted  with  the  power  of  persuasion  ne- 
cessary to  secure  it.  Yet,  for  the  season  to  which 
this  volume  relates,  he  thinks  it  not  too  much  to 
wish,  as  an  ancient  writer  has  well  expressed 
it,  that  we  could  live  a  life  of  retirement,  even 
in  the  midst  of  society — habentes  conversationem 
in  urbibus,  possideamus  mente  desertum.1  He  cer- 
tainly does  not  think  the  Christian  world  too  wise, 
or  too  good,  to  be  made  yet  wiser  and  better  by  a 
revival,  to  a  reasonable  extent,  of  the  ancient  dis- 
cipline of  abstinence :  but  let  it  be  undertaken  in 
the  temper  recommended  by  another  of  those  esti- 
mable though  neglected  teachers.  *  Let  us,"  says 
St.  Basil,  "  by  no  means  receive  the  days  that 
are  approaching  with  sadness  of  heart,  but  with 

'  St.  Ambrose. 


INTRODUCTORY    ESSAY.  XXIX 

cheerfulness   as   becometh  saints. Be   not   sad 

when  thou  art  cured.  It  would  be  very  foolish  if 
we  should  grieve  for  the  abstraction  of  our  cus- 
tomary food,  and  not  rather  rejoice  for  the  health 

of  our  souls. Rejoice,  then,  that  there  is  given 

to  thee  an  efficacious  remedy  for  sin." 

R.  C. 

Feb.  25,  1835. 


CONTENTS. 


SERMON  I.— Page  1. 
For  Ash-Wednesday       ....        Secker, 

SERMON  II.— Page  21. 
On  publicly  denouncing  Curses  upon  Sinners    .  Clarke. 

SERMON  III.— Page  39. 
On  Religious  Retirement  .  •  Atierbury. 

SERMON  IV.— Page  59. 

On  Mortification    .  •  •  .  .  •     Hall. 

SERMON  V.-  Page  81. 
On  Confession,  and  Sorrow  for  Sin    .  •        Tillotson. 

SERMON  VI.— Page  103. 
On  Repentance  ....        Taylor. 

SERMON  VII.— Page  127. 
On  Self-denial    .....      Wesley. 


XXXii  CONTENTS. 

SERMON  VIII.— Page  145. 

God's  End  and  Design  in  Affliction        •  .    Leighton. 

SERMON  IX.— Page  165. 
On  Submission  to  the  Divine  Will  .  .    Barrow. 

SERMON  X.— Page  187. 
The  Atonement  a  Pledge  of  every  other  Blessing.   Farindon. 

SERMON  XI.— Page  227. 
On  the  Crucifixion    .....    South. 

SERMON  XII.— Page  255. 
Our  Lord's  Obedience  unto  Death        .  .    Beveridge. 

SERMON  XIII.— Page  283. 
The  Believer  crucified  with  Christ    .  .  .    Watts. 

SERMON  XIV.— Page  303. 
Our  Lord's  Descent  into  Hell      .  .  .    Horsley. 

SERMON  XV.— Page  329. 
The  Last  Enemy    .  .  ,  .  .    Donne. 


SERMON   I. 

FOR    ASH-WEDNESDAY. 
BY  ARCHBISHOP  SECKER. 


[Thomas  Secker  was  born  in  the  year  1693.  He  was  made  Bishop  of  Bristol 
In  1735,  was  translated  to  Oxford  1737,  raised  to  the  See  of  Canterbury  in  1758« 
anddiedinl768J 


SERMON    I 


Gal.  v.  24 


And  they,  that  are  Christ's,  have  crucified  the  flesh, 
with  the  affections  and  lusts 

This  expression/ crucifying  the  flesh/  may  probably 
seem  to  most,  when  they  first  hear  it,  or  attend  to 
i#,  a  very  strange  one ;  as,  no  doubt,  numbers  of 
others  in  Scripture  do.  But  a  little  consideration 
will  show,  that  there  is  no  cause  to  censure  them, 
or  be  offended  at  them.  For  amidst  the  multipli- 
city of  languages  that  are  in  the  world  and  the 
various  nations,  tempers,  and  circumstances  of  the 
people  who  are  bred  up  to  use  them,  it  is  unavoid- 
able, but  there  will  be  in  each  many  ways  of  speak- 
ing, which  though  easy  and  familiar  by  custom  to 
one  part  of  mankind,  must  yet,  to  the  rest,  appear 
harsh  and  unaccountable.  This  is  the  case  even  of 
neighbouring  countries  in  our  own  times':  much 
more  then  must  it  be  expected  in  those  tongues,  of 
which  the  vulgar  use  hath  long  since  failed,  and 
which  formerly  expressed  the  sentiments  of  distant 
nations,  inspired  both  by  the  age  and  climate  they 
lived  in,  with  a  different  turn  of  thought  and  style. 


4  FOR   ASH-WEDNESDAY. 

Hence  proceeds  the  surprising  warmth  and  bold- 
ness of  figure,  the  abrupt  transitions,  the  sudden 
lofty  flights  of  the  eastern  writers  and  speakers, 
utterly  contrary  to  the  cool  and  regular  genius  ot 
the  European  languages.  And  amongst  the  for- 
mer, the  compositions  of  the  Jews  must  of  course 
have  a  peculiar  tincture  and  propriety  of  their 
own :  not  only  because  they  were  prohibited,  for 
good  reasons,  all  needless  commerce  with  other 
lands;  but  chiefly  because  divine  Revelation  de- 
livered to  them  such  doctrines  and  precepts,  and 
consequently  such  terms,  as  the  heathen  had  not; 
which  must  likewise  greatly  increase  in  number  by 
frequent  references  to  their  own  articles  of  faith, 
observances,  and  sabred  books.  When  Christianity 
was  published  to  the  world,  here  was  again  a  new 
set  of  discoveries  and  ideas,  added  to  the  preced- 
ing ;  which  being  first  communicated  in  Hebrew, 
were  thence  transfused  into  Greek,  by  the  apostles 
addressing  themselves  to  the  Gentiles.  Thus  was 
the  style  of  the  New  Testament  produced :  which 
being  as  literally  translated,  and  closely  imitated, 
as  it  well  could,  (for  the  nature  of  the  thing  re- 
quired strictness,)  the  same  forms  of  speech  have 
been  derived  down  into  the  modern  tongues  of 
Christian  countries.  And  so  it  hath  come  to  pass 
by  a  kind  of  necessity,  that,  in  discourses  on  reli- 
gion, words,  meanings,  constructions,  images,  oc- 
cur, extremely  remote  from  the  common  idiom  of 
the  language  on  other  occasions.  And  these,  weak 
persons  are  apt  to  mistake,  artful  disputants  to 
pervert,  and  unlearned  or  unfair  aftecters  of  wit 
and  free  thought  to  ridicule;  though  originally  they 
were  of  plain  signification,  and  are  still,  when  un- 
derstood, full  of  good  sense  and  beauty. 


BY    ARCHBISHOP    SECKER.  5 

Thus  'crucifying,'  or  as  the  apostle  elsewhere  puts 
it,  '  mortifying1  the  flesh/  is  a  phrase  far  out  of  the 
road  of  our  daily  conversation,  and  of  our  reading 
on  subjects  of  business  and  entertainment :  from 
whence  it  easily  happens  that  the  superstitious  mis- 
apprehend, and  the  profane  despise  it;  though 
indeed  it  denotes  a  reasonable,  a  necessary  duty, 
and  describes  that  duty,  not  only  in  a  strong,  but 
elegant  manner.  To  show  these  things  clearly,  I 
shall, 

I.  Explain  to  you  the  rise  and  general  intention 
of  this  way  of  speaking  : 

II.  Specify  more  distinctly  the  nature  of  the  duty 
designed  to  be  taught  by  it : 

III.  Show  you  how  strictly  our  belonging  to 
Christ  obliges  us  to  practise  that  doctrine. 

I.  I  shall  explain  to  you  the  rise  and  general 
intention  of  this  way  of  speaking  in  Scripture. 

Now  the  words,  flesh  and  spirit,  though  employ- 
ed by  the  writers  of  the  New  Testament  in  different 
senses,  according  to  the  subject  of  which  they  treat, 
are  yet  commonly  expressions  of  the  moral  state 
and  character  of  man ;  the  dispositions  of  his  heart 
towards  piety  or  sin.  Spirit  is  the  principle  of 
reason  and  religion ;  flesh,  of  appetite  and  passion. 
Every  one  feels  in  himself  both  right  and  wrong 
inclinations.  The  former  our  conscience  approves. 
And  therefore  pursuing  them  would  on  that  ac- 
count alone  be  properly  called,  '  walking  after  the 
Spirit,'2  that '  inward  man,  which  naturally  delight- 
eth  in  the  law  of  God.'3  But  a  much  stronger 
ground  for  it  is,  that  the  Divine  Spirit  hath  not 


Col.  iii.  5.  *  Rom.  viii.  4. 

3  Rom.  vn.  22 


6  FOR    ASH-WEDNESDAY. 

only  revealed  to  us  the  whole  rule  of  life,  and  the 
most  powerful  motives  to  observe  it,  but  is  con- 
tinually present  to  our  minds,  exciting  and  strength- 
ening us,  if  we  permit  him,  to  every  good  work. 
On  the  other  hand,  '  all  flesh  having  corrupted  his 
way  before  God/1  sinners  may  be  justly  said  to 
'  walk  after  the  flesh/  because  they  live  conform- 
ably to  the  wicked  customs  of  the  world.  But  the 
true  foundation  of  the  phrase  is,  that  this  '  corrup- 
tible body'8  subjects  the  fallen  children  of  Adam 
perpetually  by  its  irregular  propensities,  to  a  va- 
riety of  temptations,  hard  to  be  overcome.  And 
therefore  even  heathen  authors  have  represented  it 
as  the  principal  source  of  moral  evil :  no  wonder 
then,  that  those  of  Scripture  do,  on  fuller  know- 
ledge of  the  case. 

But  in  St.  Paul  more  especially  the  flesh  means  our 
vicious  tendencies ;  not  only  those  to  sensual  indul- 
gence, but  the  whole  system  of  them.  Thus  in  the 
thirteenth  verse  of  this  chapter,  '  Brethren,  ye  have 
been  called  unto  liberty  ;  only  use  not  your  liberty 
for  an  occasion  to  the  ^esh  :'  that  is,  to  any  blam- 
able  purpose.  But  the  particular  blamable  use, 
which  he  had  in  view,  was  that  of  uncharitable 
contention.  For  it  follows  immediately,  'But  if  ye 
bite  and  devour  one  another,  take  heed  that  ye  be 
not  consumed  one  of  another.'  Again  :  having 
said,  that  '  the  works  of  the  flesh  are  manifest,'3  he 
proceeds  to  reckon  amongst  them,  not  only  '  adul- 
tery and  lasciviousness,'  but '  variance,  envy,  strife, 
sedition.'  And  the  '  fruits  of  the  Spirit,'  opposed 
to  these,  are  not  only  *  temperance,'  but  •  long-suf- 


Gen.  vi.  11,12.  *  Wisd.  ix.  15. 

3  Ver.  19. 


BY    ARCHBISHOP    SECKER.  7 

fering,  peace,  goodness,  faith/  or  fidelity,  '  meek- 
ness/ 

Further:  because  there  is  a  connexion  and  sym- 
pathy between  the  various  dispositions  of  the  same 
kind,  whether  moral  or  immoral,  each  adding  vi- 
gour and  strength  to  the  other ;  the  several  vices 
to  which  mankind  are  prone,  are  described  in  God's 
word  as  uniting  into  and  forming  a  living  body, 
hence  denominated  '  the  body  of  sin/  or  of  '  the 
lusts  cf  the  flesh  / s  of  which  every  criminal  incli- 
nation is  a  member.  Thus,  when  the  apostle  had 
enjoined  Christians  to  '  mortify  their  members, 
which  are  upon  the  earth,' •  he  instantly  explains 
himself  to  mean  the  parts  of  this  figurative  body  of 
sin,  which  he  goes  on  to  enumerate :  '  covetous- 
ness,  anger,  fornication,  uncleanness,  malice,  blas- 
phemy.' 

And,  in  consequence  of  this,  because  not  only 
the  nature  of  all  men  is  tainted  originally,  but 
the  conduct  of  most  men  hath,  in  some  respects  at 
least,  been  habitually  unjustifiable;  therefore  the 
sins  which  they  have  indulged,  considered  in  the 
manner  above-mentioned,  as  united  into  one  organ- 
ized body,  are  also  styled  in  Scripture,  '  the  old 
man ;'  in  opposition  to  that '  new  man,'  or  blessed 
change  of  temper  and  behaviour,  which  the  gospel 
was  designed  to  produce.  And  however  singular 
the  former  of  these  phrases  may  appear,  the  latter, 
which  in  itself  is  equally  so,  that  of  becoming  a 
new  man,  is  both  frequent  in  our  common  speech, 
and  warranted  by  the  politest  of  classical  authors. 

This  expression  therefore  having  taken  place,  the 


Ver.  22.  2  Col.  ii.  1! 

3  Col.  iii.  5. 


8  FOR    ASH-WEDNESDAY. 

amendment  of  our  hearts  and  actions  is  sometimes 
denoted  by  laying  aside  or  putting  off  this  old 
man.  Thus,  '  that  ye  put  off,  concerning  the 
former  conversation,  the  old  man,  which  is  corrupt 
according  to  the  deceitful  lusts;  and  put  on  the 
new  man,  which  is  created  according  to  God/  that 
is,  according  to  the  image  of  God,  *  in  righteousness 
and  true  holiness.' '  And  because  our  gracious  Re- 
deemer was  a  perfect  example  of  these,  putting  on 
the  new  man  is  elsewhere  called,  '  putting  on  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ  :'*  a  mode  of  speech  fully  vindi- 
cated by  the  ancient  usage  of  the  Greek  tongue,  in 
which  the  New  Testament  was  written.  For  in 
that,  putting  on  any  person  signified,  forming 
one's  self  by  his  character,  and  imitating  his  man- 
ner. 

At  other  times,  this  entire  change  of  affections, 
will,  and  demeanour,  is  expressed  more  strongly. 
We  are  said  to  *  be  dead  to  sin,  and  raised  up 
again  to  walk  in  newness  of  life:'3  which  means, 
to  be  separated  for  ever  from  bad  habits  and 
customs,  and  enter  into  a  different  state  and  course 
of  thinking  and  acting ;  in  which  '  the  former 
things  are  passed  away,  and  all  things  are  made 
new.'4  The  promises  indeed,  of  this  renovation  on 
our  part,  and  of  grace  to  accomplish  it,  and  future 
happiness  to  reward  it,  on  God's  part,  are  first 
made  in  baptism  :  which  therefore  the  Scripture 5 
calls  our  new  birth  to  this  new  life.  But  then,  it 
is  only  by  continual  care  (if  Providence  allows  us 
time)  to  grow  in  grace,  and  become  every  day 
more  completely   dead  to   all.  transgression,  and 

1  Eph.  iv.  22.  2  Rom.  xiii.  14;  Gal.  iii.  27. 

3  Rom.  vi,  2,  4.  *  Rev.  xxi.  4,  5. 

5  John,  iii.  3 — 7« 


BY  ARCHBISHOP   SECKER.  9 

alive  to  all  duty,  that  we  shall  arrive  at  the  matu- 
rity requisite  for  our  acceptance. 

Further  yet:  when  the' word  of  God  intends  to 
give  us  the  most  awakening  sense,  how  entire  our 
change  must  be,  and  with  how  unremitted  a  reso- 
lution we  must  arm  ourselves  against  every  bad 
inclination  ;  then  the  expression  chosen  is,  not  that 
of  dying  to  sin,  but  of  mortifying,  killing  it.  For 
the  original  signification  of  the  words,  translated 
'  mortify,'  is  not  the  now  common  one,  of  keeping 
under,  and  treating  with  some  austerity,  but  of  de- 
stroying, putting  to  death  :  as  where  the  apostle 
saith,  'If  through  the  Spirit  ye  do  mortify  the 
deeds  of  the  body/  unlawful  indulgences,  '  ye  shall 
live;'1  and  in  the  passage  already  cited,  'mortify 
therefore  your  members,  which  are  upon  the  earth.' 
In  pursuance  of  which  mortal  enmity  between  re- 
ligion and  wickedness,  every  serious  believer  con- 
siders himself  as  a  'soldier  of  Christ,'2  whose 
whole  life  is  to  be  a  warfare  against  those  '  lusts 
which  war  against  the  soul.'3 

And  lastly,  because  the  great  end  of  our  Savi- 
our's incarnation  and  death  was  to  engage  us  in 
this  good  fight,  and  enable  us  to  obtain  the  victory; 
therefore  overcoming  and  sacrificing  to  him  our 
unlawful  desires,  is,  by  an  elegant  allusion  to  the 
manner  of  his  death,  (which  was  painful  and  slow, 
like  our  extirpation  of  them,)  called  '  crucifying* 
them  ;  not  only  here  in  the  text,  but  in  another  pa- 
rallel one ;  *  Knowing  this,  that  our  old  man  is 
crucified  with  him,  that  the  body  of  sin  might  be 
destroyed,   that   henceforth   we   should  not  serve 

1  Rom.  viii.  13.  ?  2  Tim.  ii.  3,  4. 

3  1  Pet.  ii.  11. 


10  FOR   ASH-WEDNESDAY. 

sin.' !  Whence  also  our  apostle  saith  further,  that 
'by  the  cross  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.'  by  the 
example  of  his  sufferings,  and  the  grace  which 
they  have  procured,  '  the  world  is  crucified  unto 
him,  and  he  unto  the  world.'  *  He  regards  it  no 
more,  than  the  Jews  did  our  Saviour,  when  they 
condemned  him  to  the  most  ignominious  torments, 
but  hates  it  mortally,  and  despises  it  utterly,  so  far 
as  it  is  sinful ;  and  is  content,  that,  in  return,  it 
should  hate  and  despise  him,  rather  than  comply 
with  its  wicked  customs. 

This  then  is  true  Christian  mortification.  And 
the  figures,  describing  it,  are  indeed  remarkably 
bold  and  full  of  energy ;  but  they  are  accurate,  in- 
structive, animating ;  and,  alas  !  but  too  necessary, 
to  convince  unthinking  and  unwilling  creatures,  as 
we  are,  (prone  to  explain  away  into  nothing  every 
precept  we  can,)  of  the  zeal  and  severity  With  which 
we  are  to  extirpate  all  that  is  faulty  within  our 
souls.  The  commands  of  our  blessed  Lord  himself 
carry  in  them  the  same  force:  'if  our  right  hand 
offends  us,  to  cut  it  off;  if  our  right  eye,  to  pluck 
it  out :' 3  if  any  desire  we  feel,  will  be  a  probable 
occasion  of  our  falling,  to  suppress  it,  however 
dear ;  if  any  action  we  are  engaged  in,  to  quit  it, 
however  advantageous  in  other  respects.  And  the 
reason  he  adds,  admits  of  no  reply :  *  It  is  better 
for  thee  to  enter  into  life  maimed,  than  having  two 
hands  or  two  eyes,  to  be  cast  into  hell  fire :'  it  is 
better  to  undergo  the  most  painful  self-denial  here, 
and  be  recompensed  with  heavenly  felicity  here- 
after, than  to  enjoy  the  '  pleasures  of  sin  for  a  sea- 

1  Rom.  vi.  6.  •*  Gal.  vi.  1 4. 

3  Matt.  v.  29,  30;  xviii.  8,  9  ;  Mark,  ix.  43,  45,  47- 


BY    ARCHBISHOP    SECKER.  11 

son,  '  ana  suffer  the  vengeance  of  the  Almighty 
for  ever. 

Having  now  explained  the  rise  and  general  in- 
tention of  the  principal  phrases  of  this  sort  in  Scrip- 
ture, I  proceed 

II.  To  specify  more  distinctly  the  nature  of  the 
duty  designed  to  he  taught  by  them. 

And  here  you  cannot  fail  to  perceive  at  first 
sight,  that  harsh  treatment  of  our  bodily  frame,  only 
for  the  sake  of  treating  it  harshly,  is  no  part  of  Chris- 
tian mortification,  or  Christian  duty.  It  is  indeed  a 
practice  contrary  to  reason,  and  no  less  to  Scrip- 
ture. For  St.  Paul  saith,  'no  man/  that  is,  no 
wise  man,  'ever  hated  his  own  flesh.' s  Yet  the 
opinion,  that  such  things  are  in  themselves  accept- 
able to  God,  hath  not  only  been  common  in  false 
religions,  but  has  crept  into  the  true :  and  both  fur- 
nished unbelievers  with  an  objection  against  it, 
and  misled  believers  very  unhappily.  For  they, 
who  fancy,  that  exercising  rigour  on  their  persons 
hath  any  good  in  it,  separate  from  the  good  uses  to 
which  it  may  contribute,  are  some  of  them  led  to 
fancy  also,  that  the  further  they  carry  it  the  better; 
till  they  hurt,  perhaps  ruin,  their  healths,  disorder 
their  understandings, or  however  sour  their  tempers: 
while  others  conceive,  that  there  is  very  great  merit 
in  a  very  little  suffering;  and  consequently  per- 
suade themselves,  that  God  will  readily  excuse  the 
smaller  faults  of  a  behaviour  not  quite  so  moral  as 
it  should  be,  on  their  punctual  performance  of 
their  higher  duties,  as  they  esteem  them  ;  though, 
in  truth,  not  only  imaginary,  but  often  of  little 
more  than  imaginary  hardship.   And  thus,  whereas 

1  Heb.  xi  25.  .  8  Eph.  v.  29. 


12  FOR    AMi-WEDNESDAY. 

common  sinners  are  open  to  remorse  of  conscience, 
which  there  is  hope  may,  sooner  or  later,  through 
the  grace  of  God,  amend  them ;  these,  on  the  con- 
trary, proceed  self-applauded,  and  fully  persuaded 
of  their  title  to  a  distinguished  share  of  divine 
favour.  On  which  account  our  Saviour  tells  the 
Pharisees,  men  of  austerity  in  some  respects,  and 
wondrous  exactness  in  little  matters,  that  'the 
publicans  and  the  harlots  shall  go  into  the  kingdom 
of  heaven  before  them.' l 

Not  that  Christians,  of  more  abstemious  lives 
than  ordinary,  are  therefore  to  be  condemned  as 
Pharisees  and  hypocrites ;  or  derided  as  weak  and 
superstitious.  Every  one  is  bound  to  employ  such 
means  for  his  preservation  from  sin,  and  advance- 
ment in  piety  and  virtue,  as  either  God's  word 
hath  prescribed,  or  his  own  reason  and  experience 
recommend.  Now  some  may  find  rules  to  be  use- 
ful or  necessary,  which  to  others  would  be  neither. 
Some  again  may  rashly  censure  what  they  would 

I  do  much  better  to  imitate.  And  all  persons,  but 
especially  all  who  live  in  ease  and  plenty,  should 
be  attentive  to  '  keep  their  bodies  in  subjection  :'  * 
not  harassing  them  as  enemies,  but  ruling  and 
providing  for  them  as  servants,  in  such  manner  as 
to  make  them  both  willing  to  obey,  and  able  to 
perform  their  work.  They  should  watch  over  their 
natural  fondness  for  pleasure,  and  tendency. to  fol- 
low the  customs"  of  "the  world ;  not  with  unreason- 
able scrupulousness,  but  with  religious  prudence  : 
learn  to  suspect  their  favourite  inclinations,  and  the 
opinions  that  countenance  them:  check  .themselves 
in  proportion  as  they  grow  eager,  stop  and  look 

1  Matt.  xxi.  3.  9  1  Cor.  ix.  27 


BY    ARCHBISHOP   SECKER.  13 

round  them  with  care  :  never  adventure  to  the  ex- 
tremity of  what  is  lawful,  but  in  all  dubious  cases 
lean  to  the  undoubtedly  safer  side  :  be  moderate 
in  the  most  allowable  gratifications  of  this  world, 
and  delight  principally  in  cultivating  and  improv- 
ing those  pious  and  virtuous  affections,  which 
alone  can  '  make  them  meet  to  be  partakers  of  the 
inheritance  of  the  saints  in  light ;' l  of  a  happiness 
entirely  spiritual,  and  abstracted  from  flesh  and 
blood. 

But  then,  while  we  observe  this  caution  in  re- 
gard to  worldly  objects,  we  must  be  careful  also,  on 
the  other  hand,  that  we  carry  it  not  to  danger- 
ous or  extravagant  lengths ;  that  we  seem  not  un- 
thankful to,  or  suspicious  of  him,  '  who  hath  given 
us  richly  all  things  to  enjoy;'2  that  we  disguise 
not  religion  by  putting  it  in  a  melancholy  and  for- 
bidding dress ;  that  we  be  not  betrayed  by  the  re- 
straints, under  which  we  lay  ourselves,  either  into 
vain  self-opinion  and  spiritual  pride,  or  a  rigidness 
of  temper,  very  unsuitable  to  the  gentle  spirit  of 
the  Christian  profession ;  but  particularly,  that  we 
forbear  to  condemn,  or  even  despise,  our  brethren 
of  more  seeming  latitude ;  who,  it  may  be,  under 
the  appearance  of  a  freer  life,  (which  was  our  Sa- 
viour's own  case,  for  he  '  came  eating  and  drink- 
ing'3) preserve  really  and  inwardly  a  stricter  guard 
over  their  thoughts,  words,  and  actions,  than  we  do. 
And  in  general,  all  persons  ought  to  take  heed, 
that  while  they  are  watching  against  the  approach 
of  one  sort  of  sins,  those  of  another  do  not  find  a 
ready  admission.     We  are  willing  enough  to  keep 

1  Col.  i.  12.  21  Tim.vi.  17. 

3  Matt.  xi.  19  ;  Luke,  vii.  34. 


14  FOR    ASH-WKDNKSDAV. 

at  ever  so  great  a  distance  from  the  faults  to  which 
we  have  little  or  no  inclination,  and  often  affect  to 
make  our  zeal  in  that  respect  remarkable;  but  then 
perhaps  more  favourite  vices  have  easy  entrance 
into  our  breasts,  and  take  firm  possession  of  them. 
We  are  shocked,  for  instance,  and  with  much 
cause,  at  the  monstrous  and  ruinous  eagerness  for 
pleasure,  the  profligate  and  unprecedented  con- 
tempt of  religion,  that  prevails  in  the  world;  our 
behaviour,  on  these  heads,  is  unblamable,  exem- 
plary; and  we  value  ourselves  upon  it  beyond 
bounds.  Yet  possibly,  all  the  while,  we  indulge 
ourselves  to  the  full  another  way :  are  unjust  and 
fraudulent,  or  selfish  and  unreasonable,  or  penuri- 
ous and  hard-hearted,  or  censorious  and  unforgiv- 
ing, or  peevish  and  ill-tempered ;  make  every  one 
about  us  uneasy,  and  those  chiefly,  whose  happi- 
ness ought  to  be  our  first  care.  This  is  applaud- 
ing ourselves  for  being  fortified,  where  the  enemy 
is  not  likely  to  make  an  attack ;  and  leaving  the 
places  that  are  most  exposed,  quite  undefended. 
Every  one  therefore  ought  to  study  the  weak  parts 
of  his  own  heart  and  conduct,  and  spend  the  main 
of  his  attention  upon  these :  that  so,  not  only  a 
wrong  inclination  or  two  may  be  rooted  up,  (which 
if  left  to  themselves  would  scarce  grow,)  or  may  be 
sacrificed  in  favour  of  others  as  bad  ;  but  the  whole 
'  body  of  sin'  be  destroyed  ;  the  '  flesh/  the  prin- 
ciple of  evil,  '  with/  all  *  its  affections  and  lusts,' 
nailed  to  the  cross  of  Christ. 

And  this  duty  of  mortification  is  no  more  con- 
fined to  one  season  than  to  one  sin.  The  practice 
of  it  either  must  be  constant,  or  will  be  fruitless. 
The  time  of  Lent  indeed  hath  been  more  especially 
appropriated  to  it :  not  that  we  should  think  the 


BY    ARCHBISHOP    SECKER.  15 

show,  or  the  reality,  of  a  little  more  exactness  than 
ordinary,  for  a  few  weeks,  (productive  perhaps  only 
of  ill  humour,)  so  meritorious;  that  when  we  have 
once  got  it  over,  we  may  live  almost  as  we  please, 
till  the  unwelcome  days  return,  when  we  are  to 
atone  afresh  for  our  past  offences,  and  so  make 
way  for  the  commission  of  future  ones.  For,  as 
the  son  of  Sirach  observes,  *  He  that  washeth  him- 
self after  the  touching  of  a  dead  body,  if  he  touch 
it  again,  what  availeth  his  washing  ?  So  is  it  with 
a  man  that  fasteth  for  his  sins,  and  goeth  again 
and  doth  the  same.  Who  will  hear  his  prayer,  or 
what  doth  his  humbling  profit  him  '  Our  great 
concern  is  to  mortify  all  irregular  desires  with  such 
incessant  care,  that  there  maybe  as  little  need,  as  lit- 
tle room  as  possible,  to  distinguish  one  season  from 
another  in  that  respect.  But  because  we  are 
strangely  apt  to  postpone  a  work,  generally  dis- 
agreeable in  proportion  as  it  is  necessary ;  our 
church  hath  wisely  directed,  that  the  negligent 
(and  we  all  are  such  in  some  measure)  should  now 
be  more  solemnly  called  to  consider  their  ways, 
afflict  their  souls  for  their  transgressions,  and  re- 
new the  intermitted  discipline  which  is  requisite  to 
make  their  hearts  better.  This  is  our  true  business 
at  present.  Methods  of  keeping  Lent,  which  end 
with  it,  and  leave  behind  them  no  durable  effect, 
cannot  be  of  much  use ;  and  may  be  fatal,  by  de- 
ceiving us  into  a  false  security,  and  forgetfulness 
of  what  I  proposed  to  show  you, 

III.  That  our  Christian  profession  strongly  binds 
us  to  mortify  continually  every  immoral  appetite 

1  Ecclus.  xx-viv  2  .    0. 


16  FOR   ASH-WEDNESDAY. 

and  passion.     '  They,  that  are  Christ's,  have  cru- 
cified the  flesh,  with  the  affections  and  lusts.' 

Instead  of  this,  the  apostle  might  have  said,  (like 
the  philosophers  of  his  own  and  preceding  times,) 
they  who  are  truly  rational  beings,  who  see  the 
beauty  of  virtue,  and  deformity  of  vice,  who  feel 
the  pleasures  and  the  pains  of  the  moral  sense,  who 
form  just  nations  of  the  real  good  and  evil  of  man, 
who  are  ambitious  of  imitating  their  Creator  and 
acquiring  his  favour  in  their  present  state  of  exist- 
ence and  perhaps  a  future  one  :  but  in  saying, 
'  they  who  are  Christ's,'  he  hath  said  all  this,  and 
much  more.  Christianity  comprehends  every  con- 
sideration of  nature  and  reason  in  the  fullest  man- 
ner; and  as  they  are  all  insufficient,  some  too 
speculative  and  unaffecting,  some  too  disputable 
and  uncertain ;  adds  others  of  inestimable  value, 
peculiar  to  itself.  A  heathen  may  want  almost  en- 
tirely, and  must  want  in  a  great  degree,  both  the 
means  of  learning  what  mankind  is  most  deeply 
interested  in,  and  motives  and  power  to  practise 
what  he  had  learned  :  a  Christian,  allowed  to  read 
and  hear  the  word  of  God,  cannot,  without  inex- 
cusable negligence  :  and  '  of  them  to  whom  much 
is  given,  much  will  be  required.' '  Through  Christ, 
who  hath  enlightened  us,  we  '  know  all  things;'2 
'  through  Christ  which  strengthened  us,  we  can  do 
all  things  :'3  through  Christ,  who  died  for  us,  what 
we  do  shall  be  rewarded,  though  deserving  nothing, 
with  eternal  life.  And  thus  hath  *  the  grace  of 
God,  which  bringeth  salvation,'  not  only  *  taught/ 


1  Luke,  xii.  48.  9  1  John,  ii.  20. 

1  Phil.  iv.  13. 


BY   ARCHBISHOP    SECKER.  17 

but  enabled  us,  '  denying  ungodliness  and  worldly- 
lusts,  to  live  soberly,  righteously,  and  godly  in  this 
present  world.'1     They,  who  are  Christ's  in  name 
only,  bind  themselves  to  this:  they,  who   are  in 
reality  his,  perform  it.     '  If  any  man  have  not  the 
Spirit  of  Christ,  he  is  none  of  his  :'8  and  '  the  fruit 
of  the  Spirit,'  we  are  told  immediately  before  the 
text,  and  through   the  whole  Scripture,   are  the 
pious  movements  of  a  good  heart,  and  the  actions 
of  a  good  life.     Our  blessed  Lord  \  gave  himself 
for  us,  that  he  might  sanctify  and  cleanse  us,  ancf 
present  us  to  himself  holy  and  without  blemish.'3 
If  then  we  labour  not  to  become  such,  we  frustrate, 
so  far  as  our  own  concern  reaches,  his  gracious 
intentions,  and  make  his  sufferings  vain.     If  we 
crucify  not  our  affections  and  lusts,  '  we  crucify 
him  afresh,  and  put  him  to  open  shame;'4  pour 
contempt  on  his  glorious  undertaking  ourselves, 
and  expose  it  to  the  scorn  of  others :  the  conse- 
quence of  which  will  be,  that,  as  '  while  we  profess 
to  know  him,  in  works  we  deny  him,'5  so  will  he 
in  the  day  of  judgment  '  profess  to  us,  I  never 
knew  you:  depart  from  me,  ye  that  work  iniquity.'6 
Still  it  should  be  observed,  that  so  far  both  good 
and  bad  Christians  are  his,  as  to  be  always  under 
his  dominion.     '  None  of  us  liveth  to  himself,  and 
no  man  dieth  to  himself,'  exempted  from  his  au- 
thority :    '  whether   we    live    or   die    we   are   the 
Lord's;'7  but  the  wicked  continue  under  his  go- 
vernment; just  as  upon  earth,  rebels  continue  sub- 
jects ;  not  intitled  to  benefits  from  their  Prince,  but 

1  Tit.  ii.  11,12.  *  Rom.  viii.  9. 

3  Eph.  x.  25,  26,  27.  4  Heb.  vi.  6. 

5  Tit.i.  16.  6  Matth.  vii.  23. 

Rom.  xiv.  7,  8. 


"8  FOR   ASH-WEDNESDAY. 

liable  justly  to  sorer  punishments  than  his  other 
enemies.  Think  then,  will  you  be  '  Christ's  at  his 
coming,' '  only  to  have  '  vengeance  taken  of  you  in 
flaming  fire,'2  or,  to  *  enter  with  him  into  his  glory?'3 
If  the  latter  be  your  choice,  the  only  way  to  it  is, 
that  you  think  it  not  too  much  to  crucify  your 
flesh  figuratively,  renounce  and  destroy  your  for- 
bidden desires,  however  painful  it  be,  for  him ; 
since  he  thought  it  not  too  much  to  let  his  flesh 
literally  be  crucified  for  you.  And  if  you  will 
"make  sure  of  doing  this  at  all,  you  must  do  it  im- 
mediately. 

Perhaps  you  will  say,  we  hope  it  is  done  already : 
for  the  text  assures  us,  all  believers  have  done  it. 
But  observe:  at  that  time  almost  all  professed  be- 
lievers were  real  ones ;  for  they  had  no  temptation 
to  make  a  false  profession  :  and  in  general,  specu- 
lative believers  were  practical  ones ;  else  they  would 
never  have  suffered  what  they  did.  But  in  our 
times,  the  case  is  much  altered.  And  in  all  times, 
the  true  method  of  arguing  is  not, '  we  are  Christ's/ 
and  therefore  we  '  have  crucified  our  affections  and 
lusts ; '  but,  '  we  have  crucified  our  affections  and 
lusts,'  and  therefore  *  we  are  Christ's.'  Our  faith 
must  be  proved  from  our  works;  not  our  works 
from  our  faith.  By  '  their  fruits  ye  shall  know 
them,'4  is  the  rule  :  and  by  those  we  must  know 
our  own  state,  as  well  as  that  of  others.  But  sup- 
posing we  have  cause  to  believe  it  good,  have  we 
not  greater  cause  to  be  sensible  it  is  not  perfect  ? 
And  should  we  not  be  striving  continually  to  make 
it  more  so  ?     '  They  that  are  Christ's,'  the  apostle 

•  1  Cor.  xv.  23.  i  2  Thess.  i.  8 

3  Luke,  xxiv.  26.  4  Matth.  vii.  20. 


BY    ARCHBISHOP    SECKER.  19 

tells  us,  '.  have  crucified  the  flesh.'  But  he  doth 
not  tell  us,  they  have  done  it  so  effectually  and  so 
completely,  as  they  ought.  On  the  contrary  he 
tells  us,  that  he  himself  had  not  yet '  attained,'  but 
was  still  '  pressing  on  towards  the  mark.' l  And 
surely  we  should  be  doing  it  without  ceasing.  Un- 
less we  are  careful  to  advance,  we  shall  be  dri- 
ven back  ;  unless  we  pursue  our  enemy  to  destruc- 
tion, though  put  to  flight  he  will  return;  though 
wounded  as  it  were  *  to  death,  his  deadly  wound 
will  be  healed :' 8  and  gradually,  if  not  suddenly, 
his  empire  may  become  more  absolute,  and  our 
condition  more  deplorable,  than  ever.  At  least  he 
will  be  perpetually  annoying  us,  disturbing  our 
peace,  taking  away  our  comfort,  darkening  our 
prospects.  Nor  shall  we  be  losers  in  this  life 
only,  by  neglect  of  going  on  to  perfection  ;  but  in 
the  next  also,  the  less  complete  the  victory  is,  the 
smaller  will  be  the  reward :  and  they  '  who  have 
sown  sparingly,  shall  reap  also  sparingly/3  Let 
us  therefore  sow  plentifully  the  seeds  of  every 
virtue  ;  and  extirpate  with  such  diligence  every 
'  root  of  bitterness/  that  there  may  be  the  freest 
room  and  the  fullest  nourishment  for  every  grace 
of  the  Christian  life  to  flourish,  and  be  fruitful. 
'  Of  ourselves/  indeed,  '  we  can  do  nothing/ 4  But 
this  is  far  from  being  a  just  plea  for  stopping 
where  we  are,  since  '  God  is  able,  to  make  all 
grace  abound  towards  us ;  that  we,  having  always 
all  sufficiency  in  all  things,  may  abound  in  every 
good  work.' s  Provided  then  we  apply  to  him,  by  the 
means  he  hath  appointed,  and  engaged  to  bless, — ■ 


1  Phil.  iii.  12, 13, 14.  2  Rev.  xiii.  3. 

3  2  Cor.  ix.  6.         4  John,  xv.  5.         5  2  Cor.  ix.  8. 

c2 


20  FOR    ASH-WEDNESDAY. 

humble  faith,  earnest  prayer,  strict  vigilance,  and 
constant  use  of  his  holy  ordinances, — we  shall  not 
fail  to  experience  the  truth  of  his  promise  :  '  They 
that  wait  upon  the  Lord  shall  renew  their  strength  : 
they  shall  mount  up  with  wings,  as  eagles ;  they 
shall  run,  and  not  be  weary ;  they  shall  walk,  arid 
not  faint.' ' 

Isaiah,  xl.  31. 


SERMON  II. 

ON  PUBLICLY  DENOUNCING  CURSES 
UPON  SINNERS. 

BY  SAMUEL  CLARKE,  D.D. 


'Samuel  Clarke,  born  at  Norwich,  in  the  year  1675,  died  Rector  of 

St.  James's,  Westminster,  1729.] 


SERMON    II. 


Deut.  xxvii.  26. 

Cursed  be  he  that  confirmeth  not  all  the  words  of 
this  law  to  do  them.  And  all  the  people  shall 
say,  Amen. 

The  proper  design  and  use  of  all  public  or  private 
seasons  of  humiliation  is,  to  recollect  and  examine 
carefully  the  state  of  our  lives;  to  confess  our  past 
sins,  with  a  just  sense  of  our  own  unworthiness  in 
committing  them;  humbly  to  ask  pardon  of  God,  for 
the  breaches  of  his  law  we  have  been  guilty  of;  to 
imprint  upon  our  minds  a  deep  sense  of  the  rea- 
sonableness and  obligation  of  our  duty ;  to  ac- 
knowledge the  justice  and  righteousness  of  God's 
indignation,  denounced  against  impenitent  sinners ; 
and  to  form  within  ourselves  strong  and  solemn  re- 
solutions of  better  obedience  for  the  future.  To 
this  end  it  is,  that  the  law  of  God  is  held  forth  unto 
us,  recommended  with  all  the  blessings,  and  fenced 
in  with  all  the  curses,  that  are  written  in  his  book. 
To  this  end  it  is,  that  the  prophets  in  the  Old 
Testament,  and  the  apostles  in  the  New,  represent 
unto  us  in  such  sublime  expressions,  the  happiness 
of  obedience ;  and  on  the  other  hand,  set  forth,  in 


24        ON    DENOUNCING    CURSES    UPON    SINNERS. 

such  moving  and  affectionate  descriptions,  the 
wrath  of  God,  expressly  revealed  from  heaven 
against  all  ungodliness  and  unrighteousness  of  men. 
To  this  end  it  is,  that  our  Saviour  has  appointed 
his  ministers  to  continue,  even  unto  the  end  of  the 
world,  persuadingvmen  to  repentance,  both  by  the 
love  of  God,  and  by  the  terrors  of  the  Lord  ;  which, 
as  it  is  at  all  times  their  perpetual  duty,  so  more 
especially,  at  such  seasons  as  are  thought  proper 
to  be  set  apart  for  fasting  and  humiliation.  The 
proper  and  Christian  observation  of  which  times, 
does  not  consist  in  superstitious  distinctions  of 
meats,  for  which  there  is  no  foundation  either  in 
the  law  of  God  or  in  the  nature  of  things;  but  it 
consists  in  such  general  abstinence,  as  every  serious 
person  finds,  by  his  own  experience,  best  to  pro- 
mote the  performance  of  his  whole  Christian  duty. 
In  which  matter,  because  the  temper  and  constitu- 
tion, and  other  accidental  circumstances  of  every 
particular  person,  are  different  from  others ;  there- 
fore no  general  rules  can  be  given  for  all  persons ; 
but  every  one  for  himself  must  in  particular,  with 
the  prudence  and  sobriety  of  a  Christian,  deter- 
mine the  measure  and  degrees  of  that  abstinence, 
which  the  law  of  God  has  not  determined,  and  the 
laws  or  customs  of  men  have  in  reason  no  power  to 
determine.  But  some  things  there  are  very  pro- 
per for  all  persons,  and  wherein  the  whole  church 
may  join  without  distinction.  Such  are  confes- 
sions of  sin,  public  acknowledgments  of  the 
righteousness  of  God's  laws,  and  solemn  depreca- 
tions of  his  judgments;  which  acts  of  devotion,  as 
they  are  always  proper,  so  it  has  wisely  been 
iudged  that  the  performing  them  with  greater  so- 
lemnity, at  certain  periods  or  seasons  set  apart  for 


BY    SAMUEL    CLARKE,    D.  D.  25 

public  humiliation,  may  he  very  advantageous  and 
helpful  towards  the  Keeping  up  a  public  spirit  of 
religion  in  a  nation.  And  there  was  the  more  rea- 
son so  to  judge,  because  God  himself,  when  he 
brought  the  children  of  Israel  over  Jordan,  was 
pleased  by  an  express  command,  to  appoint  the 
blessings  and  curses  of  the  law  to  be  read  in  a  so- 
lemn manner  to  the  whole  body  of  the  people; 
and  that  the  people,  at  the  repeating  of  each  curse, 
should,  by  way  of  acknowledgment  of  the  righteous- 
ness and  reasonableness  of  God's  judgment  de- 
nounced against  impenitent  sinners,  distinctly  and 
solemnly  say ,  Amen.  Of  this  we  have  a  large  account, 
in  this  twenty-seventh  chapter  of  Deuteronomy ;  in 
which,  from  the  fifteenth  verse  to  the  end,  is  set 
down  a  distinct  denunciation  of  the  curse  or  wrath 
of  God,  against  several  particular  instances  of  great 
wickedness;  and  it  concludes, or  sums  up  all,  with 
that  more  general  denunciation  in  the  words  of 
the  text :  '  Cursed  be  he  that  confirmeth  not  all 
the  words  of  this  law  to  do  them;  and  all  the 
people  shall  say,  Amen.'  In  discoursing  upon 
which  words,  because  they  have  sometimes,  by 
weak  persons,  been  so  misunderstood,  as  if  by 
joining  with  or  repeating  this  curse,  men  were  in 
danger  of  being  led  into  some  degree  of  uncha- 
ritable censure,  or  to  express  any  hard  wish,  against 
such  persons  as  they  know  to  be  guilty,  or  whom 
they  see  live  in  the  practice  of  any  of  those  crimes 
to  which  the  curse  is  here  annexed  ;  I  shall  there- 
fore endeavour  to  show,  first,  That  the  repeating 
the  curse  in  this  and  the  like  texts,  is  not  express- 
ing any  uncharitable  wish,  or  desiring  that  any 
evil  should  befal  the  persons  against  whom  it  is 
denounced ;  but  only  an  acknowledgment  of  the 


26        ON    DENOUNCING    CURSES    UPON    SINNERS. 

reasonableness  of  God's  denouncing-  such  threaten- 
ing^?, in  order  to  bring  men  to  repentance,  and  a 
confession  of  the  justice  and  righteousness  of  God, 
in  punishing  such  as  (notwithstanding  those  threat- 
enings)  continue  obstinately  impenitent.  And 
secondly,  I  shall  endeavour  to  show,  that  this  pub- 
lic acknowledgment  of  the  righteousness  of  God's 
judgments  upon  impenitent  sinners,  is  very  reason- 
able to  be  made  in  this  manner  by  all  Christians. 

I.  First,  I  am  to  .show,  that  the  repeating  the 
curse  in  this  and  the  like  texts,  is  not  expressing 
any  uncharitable  wish,  or  desiring  that  any  evil 
should  befal  the  persons  against  whom  it  is  de- 
nounced ;  but  only  an  acknowledgment  of  the  rea- 
sonableness of  God's  denouncing  such  threaten- 
ings,  in  order  to  bring  men  to  repentance,  and  a 
confession  of  the  justice  and  righteousness  of  God, 
in  punishing  such  as  (notwithstanding  those  threat- 
enings)  continue  obstinately  impenitent.  And  this 
will  appear,  both  by  a  careful  consideration  of  the 
words  of  the  text  itself,  and*by  comparing  them  with 
other  expressions  in  Scripture,  of  the  like  import  and 
signification.  In  the  words  of  the  text  itself,  '  Cursed 
be  he  that  confirmeth  not  all  the  works  of  this  law 
to  do  them ;  and  all  the  people  shall  say,  Amen,' 
it  is  observable,  in  the  first  place,  that  in  the  very 
first  expression,  '  Cursed  be  he,'  the  word  '  be,'  is 
not  in  the  original;  and,  for  that  reason,  in  our 
English  translation,  is  printed  in  a  different  cha- 
racter :  so  that  the  words  might  be  as  truly,  and 
indeed  more  truly,  have  been  rendered,  '  Cursed  is 
he,'  or  '■  Cursed  shall  he  be  that  confirmeth  not  all 
the  words  of  this  law  to  do  them ;'  which  is  mani- 
festly not  an  expression  of  desire,  in  him  that  pro- 
nounceth  the  words,  but  merely  a  declaration  of 


BY    SAMUEL    CLARKE,    D.  D.  27 

truth,  that  the  wrath  of  God  is  actually  revealed 
against  sinners.  And  it  is  remarkable,  that  these 
very  words  are  expressly  quoted  by  St.  Paul,  from 
this  passage  in  Deuteronomy,  according  to  that 
latter  manner  of  rendering :  '  As  many/  says  he, 
as  are  of  the  works  of  the  law,  are  under  the  curse  ; 
for  it  is  written,  Cursed  is  every  one  thqt  continueth 
not  in  all  things  which  are  written  in  the  book  of 
the  law  to  do  them.' ' 

In  the  next  place,  the  same  thing  appears  from 
the  use  of  the  following  word,  'confirm;'  'that 
confirmeth  not  all  the  words  of  the  law  to  do 
them  ;'  for,  as  he  who  obeys  the  commandments  of 
God  does  not  add  thereby  any  strength  to  the  law 
itself,  but  yet  is  said  in  the  text  to  confirm  it, 
only  by  assenting  to  the  reasonableness  of  it  in  his 
life  and '  practice ;  so  he  who  pronounceth  those 
accursed,  whom  the  law  of  God  hath  expressly 
condemned,  doth  neither  thereby  take  upon  him- 
self any  power  of  passing  censure  on  his  brethren  ; 
neither  doth  he  express  any  wish  or  desire  of  his 
own;  but  only  makes  confession  of  the  justice  and 
righteousness  of  God,  in  declaring  his  indignation 
against  sinners. 

Lastly,  As  to  the  following  words,  '  and  all  the 
people  shall  say,  Amen  ;'  it  is  to  be  observed,  that 
this  phrase  has  in  Scripture  two  significations. 
At  the  conclusion  of  prayers  and  thanksgivings,  it 
signifies  a  wish  or  desire, — So  be  it ;  but  when  it  is 
added  to  an  assertion  or  declaration  of  truth,  it 
signifies  only  an  acknowledgment  of  the  truth  and 
certainty  of  what  is  so  declared.  Thus,  when  our 
Saviour  uses  the  word,  '  Amen/  as  he  does  so  fre- 

1  Gal.  iii.  10. 


28       ON    DENOUNCING    CURSES    UPON    SINNERS. 

quently  in  St.  John's  Gospel,  it  plainly  signifies,  as 
we  rightly  translate  it,  '  Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto 
you ;'  that  is,  the  words  which  I  speak  shall  cer- 
tainly and  assuredly  be  accomplished.  And  when 
St.  Paul  tells  us,  that  •  all  the  promises  of  God  in 
him  are  yea  and  amen;'1  his  meaning  is  evident, 
that  they  are  sure,  infallible,  and  to  be  entirely 
depended  upon.  And  when  our  Saviour  declares 
concerning  himself,  '  Behold,  I  am  alive  for  ever- 
more, amen/1  it  is  manifest  the  word,  'amen/ 
does  not  there  express  any  wish  or  desire,  (which 
would  have  been  very  improper  in  that  place,) 
but  it  is  a  strong  assertion  of  the  infallibility  of 
that  truth,  that  he  is  '  alive  for  evermore.'  And 
the  character  by  which  the  Spirit  describes  him, 
*  these  things  saith  the  Amen/  3  is  distinctly  ex- 
plained in  the  words  next  following,  '  the  faithful 
and  true  witness.'  From  these  uses  of  the  word 
1  amen/  in  Scripture,  it  appears  very  clearly,  that 
if  the  former  part  of  the  text  be  rendered,  (as  it 
may  well  be,)  not  '  cursed  be  he,'  but  \  cursed  is 
he,  that  confirmeth  not  all  the  words  of  this  law  to 
do  them ;'  the  meaning  of  the  latter  part, '  and  let 
all  the  people  say,  '  Amen,'  will  be  this  only :  let 
the  people  publicly  profess  their  acquiescence 
in,  and  acknowledgment  of,  the  justice  and  righte- 
Dusness  of  the  divine  threatenings.  And  this  sense 
3f  the  words  is  the  more  certain,  because  in  the 
book  of  Jeremy,  where  the  words  of  the  text  are 
igain  repeated,  *  cursed  be  (or  Cursed  is)  the  man 
,hat  obeyeth  not  the  words  of  this  covenant,'4  the 
orophet  immediately  replies,  'Then  answered  I, 


1  2  Con.  i.  20.  2  Rev.  i.  18.  3  lb.  iii.  14. 

*  Jer.  xi.  3. 


BY    SAMUEL    CLARKE,    D.  D.  29 

and  said,  Amen,  O  Lord."  Which  reply  being 
made  by  him  of  his  own  accord,  and  without  any 
command,  shows  plainly  that  the  word  '  amen' 
ought  not  there  to  have  been  rendered,  as  in  the 
form  of  a  severe  condemnatory  prayer,  '  so  be  it  f 
but  as  a  form  of  acquiescence  only  in  God's  righte- 
ous sentence :  '  Even  so,  O  Lord,  righteous  and 
true  are  thy  judgments.' 

And  thus  much,  from  the  consideration  of  the 
expressions  used  in  the  text  itself.  The  same  thing 
will  appear  further,  by  comparing  these  with  other 
ways  of  speaking  used  in  the  Scripture,  of  the  like 
import  and  signification.  In  the  last  words  that 
Jacob  spake  to  his  sons,  we  find  this  expression 
concerning  Simeon  and  Levi,  '  Cursed  be  their 
anger,  for  it  was  fierce ;  and  their  wrath,  for  it  was 
cruel.'8  It  cannot  be  imagined  that  Jacob  in- 
tended to  curse  his  sons,  or  bring  any  imprecation 
upon  them,  as  of  his  own  desire ;  but  the  words 
are  only  a  declaration  of  what  he  was  inspired  to 
foresee  would  come  upon  them  hereafter :  and 
therefore  in  the  very  same  verse  he  changes  his 
style,  and  goes  on  in  the  prophetic  manner  of 
speaking;  not,  'Do  thou  divide  them,'  but,  '  I  will,' 
says  he,  'divide  them  in  Jacob,  and  scatter  them  in 
Israel.'  And  this  (especially  if  we  consider  that 
it  was  to  take  place,  not  so  much  in  themselves  as 
in  their  posterity)  leads  us  to  the  true  explication 
of  those  many  passages  in  the  Psalms,  which  in 
our  translation  seem  to  be  expressed  in  the  form 
of  curses,  or  imprecations,  but  in  the  original  are 
plain  predictions  only  of  future  events.  To  give 
one  instance  out  of  many :  '  Let  his  days  be  few, 

•  Jer.  xi.  5.  a  Gen.  lxix.  7. 


30   ON  DENOUNCING  CURSES  UPON  SINNERS., 

and  let  another  take  his  office ;  let  his  children  be 
fatherless,  and  his  wife  a  widow.'1  These  words 
being  spoken  by  the  Psalmist,  not  as  a  private 
person,  concerning  his  own  particular  enemies,  but 
as  a  prophet,  concerning  him  who  was  to  betray 
our  Lord,  are  plainly,  not  an  imprecation,  but  a 
prediction  :  and  almost  all  the  like  expressions  in 
the  whole  book  of  Psalms,  carry  with  them  suffi- 
cient marks  of  their  being  intended  only  as  pro- 
phetical denunciations  of  the  wrath  of  God,  against 
profane  men  and  enemies  of  religion,  in  all  future 
generations.  Again  :  when  Moses  commanded  six 
of  the  tribes  to  stand  upon  Mount  Gerizim,  to  bless 
the  people,  it  is  added  in  the  next  verse,  that  the 
other  six  should  stand  upon  Mount  Ebal,  to 
curse:*  he  does  not  continue  to  speak  in  the 
same  phrase,  that  as  the  one  were  to  bless  the 
people,  so  the  other  should  curse  the  people ;  but 
only  that  they  should  stand  upon  Mount  Ebal,  to 
curse ;  that  is,  to  publish  aloud  the  denunciation 
of  God's  wrath  against  sinners,  and  the  threaten- 
ings  of  what  calamities  would  certainly  befal  that 
nation,  if  they  departed  from  God.  And  this  is 
what  Moses  himself  often  did, in  a  more  vehement 
manner,  and  with  more  solemn  words,  than  when  it 
was  expressed  barely  in  the  form  of  a  curse  :  '  When 
you  shall  corrupt  yourselves,  and  do  evil  in  the 
sight  of  the  Lord  thy  God,  to  provoke  him  to 
anger ;  I  call  heaven  and  earth  to  witness  against 
you  this  day,  that  ye  shall  soon  utterly  perish  from 
off  the  land  :'3  and  'If  thou  forget  the  Lord  thy 
God,  and  walk  after  other  gods,  I  testify  against 


1  Psalm  cix.  8.         2  Deut.  xxvii.  12. 
3  Deut.  iv.  25. 


BY    SAMUEL   CLARKE,    D.  D.  31 

you  this  day,  that  ye  shall  surely  perish.'1  From 
this  form  of  expression,  which  is  really  much  more 
vehement  and  emphatical  than  that  in  the  text, 
and  yet  manifestly  contains  nothing  of  imprecation 
in  it,  but  merely  a  warning  to  deter  men  from 
apostacy ;  it  is  evident  that  the  words  of  the  text, 
though  expressed  in  the  form  of  an  imprecation, 
yet  must  of  necessity  be  understood  in  no  other 
sense,  than  as  a  like  warning  to  deter  men  from 
sin.  And  this  is  the  more  evident,  because  both 
from  the  places  now  cited,  and  from  the  whole 
book  of  Deuteronomy,  it  appears,  that  all  the 
curses  in  that  book  were  denounced  not  only 
against  wicked  persons  then  present,  but  also  in 
all  succeeding  generations ;  with  respect  to  whom, 
it  is  plain  they  could  be  understood  no  otherwise 
than  as  comminatory  exhortations.  For  as  the# 
apostle  declares  concerning  the  blessing,  that  the 
promise  was,  '  to  them  and  to  their  children,  and 
to  them  that  are  afar  off,  tven  as  many  as  the 
Lord  our  God  shall  call,'*  so  Moses  expressly 
declares  concerning  the  curse,  likewise,  'Neither 
with  you  only  do  I  make  this  covenant  and  this 
oath  ;  but  with  him  that  standeth  here  with  us 
this  day,  and  also  with  him  that  is  not  here  with 
us  this  day  ;  for  when  thou  shalt  beget  children, 
and  children's  children,  and  shalt  have  remained 
long  in  the  land ;  and  it  come  to  pass  that  one 
heareth  the  words  of  this  curse,  and  despiseth  it, 
the  Lord  will  not  spare  that  man,  but  all  the  curses 
that  are  written  in  this  book  shall  lie  upon  him.'3 
The  meaning  is  evident :   if  any  man  despises  the 


1  Deut.  viii.  19.  '  Acts,  ii.  39. 

3  Deut.  xxix.  14,  15,  19  ;  and  iv.  25. 


32       ON    DENOUNCING    CURSES    UPON    SINNERS. 

threatenings  of  God,  instead  of  being  moved  by 
them  to  repentance,  upon  him  shall  those  threat- 
enings finally  be  executed. 

In  the  New  Testament,  likewise,  we  sometimes 
meet  with  the  same  manner  of  speaking.  '  Unto 
them  that  are  contentious,  and  do  not  obey  the 
truth,  but  obey  unrighteousness,  indignation  and 
wrath,  tribulation  and  anguish  upon  every  soul  of 
man  that  doth  evil,  of  the  Jew  first,  and  also  of  the 
Gentile.'1  In  the  original,  it  is  expressed  as  an  en- 
tire sentence  of  itself, — indignation  and  wrath  be 
upon  them :  but  yet,  from  the  whole  scope  of  St. 
Paul's  discourse,  it  is  plain  his  intention  was  no- 
thing more,  than  as  if  he  had  only  in  one  continued 
sentence,  gone  on  with  the  foregoing  declaratory 
manner  of  speaking ;  ■  God  will  render  to  every 
man  according  to  his  deeds;  to  them  that  patiently 
continue  in  welldoing,  eternal  life;  but  to  them 
that  obey  unrighteousness,  indignation  and  wrath.' 

The  apostles  were  entrusted  by  our  Saviour,  with 
the  doctrine  of  life  and  death  ;  with  delivering  to 
men  the  terms  upon  which  their  sins  should  be 
forgiven  or  not  forgiven  :  '  Whosesoever  sins  ye  re- 
mit, they  are  remitted  unto  them ;  and  whosesoever 
sins  ye  retain,  they  are  retained  : '  yet  when  they 
retained  any  men's  sins,  as  in  the  case  of  shaking  off 
the  dust  of  their  feet  against  the  unbelieving  cities,  it 
is  plain,  they  did  it  not  as  an  act  of  power,  nor  as 
a  signification  of  any  will  or  desire  of  their  own, 
that  those  people  should  be  accursed  ;  but,  as  our 
Saviour  himself  expresses  it,  it  was  to  be  '  for  a 
testimony  against  them,'  a  protestation  of  their  un- 
worthiness  to  receive  the  gospel : 2  just  as  Moses 

1  Rim.  it  1.  9.  *  Mark,  vi.  11. 


BY    SAMUEL    CLARKE,    D.  D.  33 

testified  against  the  children  of  Israel,  in  the  pas- 
sages before  cited  ;  and  as  St.  Paul  against  certain 
wicked  persons  among  the  Thessalonians ;  '  The 
Lord  is  the  avenger  of  all  such ;  as  we  have  also 
forewarned  you,  and  testified;'1  and  as  St.  John, 
against  any  man  that  should  corrupt  his  prophecies 
in  the  Revelation :  '  T  testify,'  saith  he, '  unto  every 
such  person,  that  God  shall  add  unto  him  the 
plagues  that  are  written  in  this  book.'8  From  all 
these  parallel  passages  it  abundantly  appears,  that 
the  solemnly  repeating  the  curse  in  the  text,  or  any 
other  the  like  denunciations  in  Scripture,  is  not 
expressing  any  uncharitable  wish,  or  desiring  that 
any  evil  should  befal  the  persons  against  whom  it 
is  denounced  ;  but  only  an  acknowledgment  of  the 
reasonableness  of  God's  denouncing  such  threaten- 
ings,  in  order  to  bring  men  to  repentance,  and  a 
confession  of  the  justice  and  righteousness  of  God, 
in  punishing  such  as  (notwithstanding  those  threat- 
enings)   continue  obstinately  impenitent. 

It  remains  that  I  proceed  to  show  briefly,  in  the 
second  place,  that  such  a  public  acknowledgment 
of  the  righteousness  of  God's  judgments  upon  impe- 
nitent sinners,  is  very  reasonable  to  be  made  in 
this  manner,  by  all  Christians.  And  this  is  ex- 
tremely evident  from  what  has  been  already  said  : 
for  since  reciting  the  curses  written  in  Scripture,  is 
not  wishing,  or  desiring  any  evil  to  any  man  ;  but 
the  reason  of  continuing  to  recite  them,  is  only  the 
same  as  the  reason  of  God's  first  commanding 
them  to  be  written ;  namely,  to  move  both  those 
that  hear  them  to  repent,  and  to  convince  those 
that  recite  them  of  the  necessity  of  avoiding  those 

1  1  Thes.  iv.  6.  *  Rev.  xxii.  18. 

D 


34         ON    DENOUNCING    CURSES    UPON    SINNERS. 

crimes,  against  which  they  acknowledge  with  their 
own  mouths,  the  curse  of  God  to  be  due;  it  is  very 
plain,  that  this  is  not  doing-  hurt,  but  good,  to  our 
neighbours ;  being,  indeed,  nothing  else  than  fore- 
warning them  of  a  danger,  in  order  to  their  escap- 
ing it.  The  righteousness  of  the  law  of  God  is 
attested  to  by  the  natural  sense  of  every  man's  own 
conscience ;  even  '  the  Gentiles,  which  have  not 
the  law,  being  a  law  unto  themselves,  and  showing 
the  work  of  the  law  written  in  their  hearts.'  The 
judgment  of  God,  therefore,  against  them  who 
commit  such  things  as  their  own  consciences  con- 
demn, is  according  to  truth  ;•■  that  is,  it  is  accord- 
ing to  right  and  equity;  as  the  phrase  is  afterwards 
explained  ;*  where  it  is  styled  more  expressly,  'the 
revelation  of  the  righteous  judgment  of  God :'  righte- 
ous, in  condemning  those  only,  who  must  by  all  men 
be  confessed  to  be  worthy  of  death  ;  (as  St.  Paul  ex- 
presses it,  Rom  i.  32,)  '  who  knowing  the  judgment 
of  God,'  (in  the  original,  'the  just  judgment  of 
God,')  '  not  only  do  the  same,  but  have  pleasure  in 
them  that  do  them ;'  or,  (as  it  is  found  in  some  of 
the  most  ancient  copies,)  '  who  knowing  the 
righteousjudgmentsofGod,yetdo  notconsider,  that 
they  who  do  such  things  are  worthy  of  death,  and 
not  only  they  that  do  them  themselves,  but  they 
also  who  countenance  others  that  do  them.'  Now, 
what  the  equity  of  the  thing  itself  thus  compels 
every  man's  conscience  secretly  to  acknowledge 
within  him,  the  glory  of  God  and  the  benefit  of 
men  make  it  reasonable  should  be  publicly  pro- 
fessed before  the  world ;  <  that  God  may  be  justified 
in  his  saying,  and  clear  when  he  is  judged  ;'3  and 

'  Rom.  ii.  2.  *  Ibid,  ii.  5.  3  Psalm  li.  4. 


BY    SAMUEL    CLARKE,   D.  D.  35 

that  men  may  be  moved  to  repent,  by  considering 
that,  if  they  do  it  not,  they  will  have  no  apology  to 
make  for  themselves,  '  but  every  mouth  will  be 
stopped  before  God.'1  and  at  the  day  of  judgment 
it  will  be  said  to  every  impenitent  person,  '  Thine 
own  mouth  condemneth  thee,  and  not  I;  yea, 
thine  own  lips  testify  against  thee ;' 2  not,  that  by 
making  such  profession,  any  man  shall  be  more 
liable  to  be  condemned,  than  if  he  made  it  not; 
but  that  the  righteousness  of  God's  judgment  shall 
be  manifested  in  condemning  men  for  such  things 
only,  as  either  they  themselves  professed,  or  (which 
is  the  same  thing)  could  not  deny,  to  be  worthy  of 
death.  By  which  phrase,  being  worthy  of  death, 
it  is  not  to  be  understood  only,  that  such  crimes 
may  be  so  punished  without  any  injustice;  but 
also,  that  it  is  necessary,  in  the  government  of  the 
world,  that  we  should  be  so  punished.  God  him- 
self therefore,  the  infinitely  good  and  merciful  Go- 
vernor of  the  universe,  pronounces  curses  against  the 
wicked,  not  as  taking  any  delight  so  to  do ;  but  the 
Scripture  always  represents  him  doing  it,  as  unwil- 
lingly, as  with  reluctance,  and  as  his  'strange 
work.' 3  And  our  Saviour  also  himself,  who  loved 
us,  and  gave  himself  for  us,  and  laid  down  his  own 
life  to  redeem  us  from  death ;  yet,  even  he  shall 
say,  to  those  who  impenitently  reject  his  gracious 
offers  of  life,  *  Depart  from  me,  ye  cursed,  into 
everlasting  fire,  prepared  for  the  devil  and  his 
angels:'4  and,  'in  the  presence  of  the  holy  angels, 
and  in  the  presence  of  the  Lamb,'  who  assuredly 


1  Rom.  iii.  19.  2  Job,  xv.  6.        J  Isaiah,  xxviii.  21. 

4  Matt.  xxv.  41. 

D  2 


36       ON    DENOUNCING    CURSES    UPON    SINNERS. 

can  take  no  pleasure  in  beholding-  any  punishment 
but  what  is  necessary,  'shall  they  be  tormented 
with  fire  and  brimstone ;' '  and  the  saints  in  heaven, 
who  are  far  from  having  in  them  any  revenge,  or 
any  uncharitableness,  but  only  a  right  sense  of  the 
necessary  administration  of  justice  in  God's  king- 
dom, are  described  after  the  following  manner  :  *  I 
heard  a  great  voice  of  much  people  in  heaven,  say- 
ing, Allelujah,  salvation  and  glory,  and  honour,  and 
power  unto  the  Lord  our  God  ;  for  true  and  righte- 
ous are  his  judgments ;  for  he  hath  judged  the  great 
whore,  which  did  corrupt  the  earth  with  her  forni- 
cation ;  and  hath  avenged  the  blood  of  his  servants 
at  her  hand.'  *  And  again  :  '  I  heard  the  angel  of 
the  waters  say,  thou  art  righteous,  O  Lord,  which 
art,  and  wast,  and  shalt  be,  because  thou  hast 
judged  thus ;  for  they  have  shed  the  blood  of  saints 
and  prophets,  and  thou  hast  given  them  blood  to 
drink,  for  they  are  worthy  :  and  I  heard  another 
out  of  the  altar  say,  even  so,  Lord  God  Almighty, 
true  and  righteous  are  thy  judgments.'3  The  sense 
of  all  these  places  is  nothing  else,  but  that  it  is  rea- 
sonable all  the  world  should  make  acknowledgment 
of  the  righteousness  of  God's  judgments;  and  of 
the  necessity  there  is  in  the  nature  of  things,  and 
in  the  government  of  God,  that  wickedness  should 
finally  be  destroyed.  And  though  it  be  in  great 
variety  of  expression,  that  the  Scripture  sets  forth 
this  truth  ;  yet,  by  comparing  the  several  expres- 
sions one  with  another,  it  is  plain  they  all  termi- 
nate only  in  the  same  thing. 

What  Solomon  thus  expresses,  'He  that  justi- 

'  R*v.  xiv.  10.         *  Ibid.  xix.  10.         3  Ibid.  xvi.  6. 


BY    SAMUEL    CLARKE,    D.D.  37 

fieth  the  wicked,  and  he  that  condemneth  the  just, 
they  both  are  an  abomination  to  the  Lord  ;' !  is  in 
the  prophet  Isaiah  thus  :  'Wo  unto  them  which  jus- 
tify the  wicked,  and  take  away  the  righteousness  of 
the  righteous  from  him  ;'s  and  Pro  v.  xxiv.  24,  in  a  still 
more  severe  manner  of  speaking,  '  He  that  saith 
unto  the  wicked,  thou  art  righteous,  him  shall  the 
people  curse;  nations  shall  abhor  him/3  Yet  the 
meaning  of  all  these  places  is  still  evidently  one 
and  the  same ;  and  the  nations  cursing  such  a  per- 
son, plainly  signifies  nothing  more,  than  an  univer- 
sal acknowledgment  of  the  reasonableness  and  ne- 
cessity of  the  threatenings  denounced  of  God 
against  him.  Tn  the  book  of  Habakkuk,  the  figure 
is  carried  still  higher :  '  The  very  stone  shall  cry  out 
of  the  wall,  and  the  beam  out  of  the  timber  shall 
answer  it:  Wo  to  him  that  buildeth  a  town  with 
blood,  and  establisheth  a  city  by  iniquity;'3  and 
in  that  pathetical  expression  of  our  Saviour,  '  If 
these  should  hold  their  peace,  the  stones  would 
immediately  cry  out/4  It  is  a  highly  figurative 
and  very  elegant  manner  of  expressing  only  the 
reasonableness  and  necessity  of  the  thing  to  be 
done.  And  because  the  design  and  end  of  all 
these  ways  gf  speaking  in  Scripture,  is  this  only,  to 
convince  men  of  the  necessity  of  coming  to  re- 
pentance, of  reforming  their  manners,  and  of  obey- 
ing the  law  of  God ;  it  is  therefore  very  evident, 
that  as  showing  men  the  penalties  threatened  in 
human  laws,  is  a  kind  and  friendly  office,  as  only 
giving  them  warning  in  what  manner  to  avoid 
them;  so   reciting,  wilh  the  same   intention,  the 


4  Prov.  xvii.  15.  9  Isaiah,  v.  23. 

3  Hab.  ii.  11,  12.  4  Luke,  xix.  40. 


38      ON    DENOUNCING    CURSES    UPON    SINNERS. 

curses  of  God  set  forth  in  Scripture  against  all  im- 
penitent sinners,  is  likewise  doing,  not  hurt,  but 
good,  to  our  neighbours. 

The  only  inference  I  shall  draw  at  this  time 
from  what  has  been  said,  and  wherewith  I  shall 
conclude,  is  this;  that  if,  when  the  general  denun- 
ciations of  the  wrath  of  God  against  sinners  are  re- 
cited, there  be  and  ought  to  be,  a  great  tenderness 
used  in  applying  them  in  particular ;  and  the  de- 
sign of  repeating  them  publicly  upon  solemn  occa- 
sions of  humiliation  is,  that  every  man  may  apply 
them  seriously  to  his  own  conscience,  and  not  that 
any  man  should  judge  his  brother;  ('for  who  art 
thou  that  judgest  another  man's  servant  ?  to  his 
own  master  he  standeth  or  falleth;)  from  hence  we 
may  learn  the  extreme  wickedness  of  those  men's 
pretended  Catholic  religion,  who  presumptuously 
taking  it  for  granted,  that  all  who  receive  not  their 
absurd  doctrines,  shall  be  eternally  punished  by 
God ;  take  upon  them  to  anticipate  that  unrigh- 
teous sentence,  which  they  profanely  pass  in  the  seat 
of  God;  and  destroy  men's  bodies  for  no  other  rea- 
son, but  because  they  have  first,  with  impious  and 
antichristian  uncharitableness,  presumed  to  give 
judgment  of  condemnation  against  their  souls. 
"  Come  out  of  her,  my  people,  that  ye  be  not 
partakers  of  her  sins,  and  that  ye  receive  not  of  her 
plagues ;  for  in  her  is  found  the  blood  of  prophets 
and  of  saints,  and  of  all  that  are  slain  upon  the 
earth.' 


SERMON  III. 

ON  RELIGIOUS   RETIREMENT. 
BY  BISHOP  ATTERBURY. 


[Francis  Atterbury  wai  born  in  1662,  appointed  to  the  Deanery  of 
Carlisle  in  1704,  and  to  the  Bishopric  of  Rochester  in  1713.  He  died  at  Parii, 
in  1732.] 


SERMON    III. 


Matt.  xiv.  23. 

When  he  had  sent  the  multitude  away,  he  went  up 
into  a  mountain,  apart,  to  pray. 

It  hath  been  disputed,  which  is  a  state  of  greater 
perfection,  the  social  or  the  solitary ;  whereas,  in 
truth,  neither  of  these  estates  is  complete  without 
the  other ;  as  the  example  of  our  blessed  Lord  (the 
unerring  test  and  measure  of  perfection)  informs 
us.  His  life  (which  ought  to  be  the  pattern  of 
ours)  was  a  mixture  of  contemplation  and  action, 
of  austerity  and  freedom  :  we  find  him  often  where 
the  greatest  concourse  was,  in  the  market-places,  in 
the  synagogues,  and  at  festival  entertainments;  and 
we  find  him  also  retiring  from  the  crowd  into  a 
desert,  or  a  garden,  and  there  employing  himself 
in  all  kinds  of  religious  exercise  and  intercourse 
with  God,  in  fasting,  meditation,  and  prayer.  In 
imitation  of  his  spotless  example,  we  may,  doubt- 
less, lead  public  lives,  innocently  and  usefully; 
conversing  with  men,  and  doing  good  to  them; 
mutually  sowing  and  reaping  the  several  comforts 
and  advantages  of  human  society.    But  because 


42  ON    RELIGIOUS    RETIREMENT. 

the  pleasures  of  conversation,  when  too  freely 
tasted,  are  intoxicating  and  dangerous ;  because 
the  temptations  we  there  meet  with  are  many  and 
mighty;  and  even  where  the  spirit  is  willing  to 
resist,  yet  the  flesh  is  often  weak  ;  we  ought,  there- 
fore, to  lessen  the  too  great  complaisance  we  are 
apt  to  have  in  such  satisfactions,  by  fit  intermis- 
sions of  them  ;  to  strengthen  ourselves  for  such 
public  encounters  by  our  religious  privacies;  to 
retire  from  the  world  sometimes,  and  converse  with 
God  and  our  own  consciences ;  examining  the  state, 
and  fortifying  the  powers  of  our  souls,  in  secrecy 
and  silence :  we  must  do  as  our  Lord  did,  '  send 
the  multitude  away,  and  go  up  into'the  mountain 
apart  to  pray.' 

I  shall,  from  these  words,  take  occasion  to  dis- 
course to  you,  concerning  the  great,  but  much 
neglected  duty,  of  religious  retreats  and  recol- 
lection. I  shall  first  briefly  show  you  under  what 
limitations  I  would  be  understood  to  recommend 
the  duty;  and  then,  what  the  advantages  are  which 
arise  from  a  devout  and  discreet  performance  of  it. 

I  mean  not  to  press  upon  you  that  sort  of  retire- 
ment, which  is  so  much  esteemed  and  practised  in 
the  church  of  Rome  ;  where  all  perfection  is 
reckoned  to  consist  in  solitude,  and  no  man  is 
allowed  capable  of  arriving  at  the  height  of  virtue, 
who  doth  not  strip  himself  of  all  the  conveniences 
of  life,  and  renounce  all  manner  of  acquaint- 
ance with  the  world,  and  the  things  of  it.  I  see  not 
wherein  this  state  of  life  claims  the  pre-eminence 
over  all  others  ;  how  it  is  founded  in  nature  and 
reason ;  what  particular  example,  precept,  or  direc- 
tion there  is  in  the  gospel,  inviting  us  to  it.  John 
the  Baptist  is  indeed  there  represented,  as  seques- 


BY    BISHOP    ATTERBURY.  43 

tering  himself  from  human  converse,  and  spending 
his  time  'in  the  wilderness;'  but  as  he  is  said  to 
have  come  '  in  the  spirit  and  power  of  Elias/1  (a 
spirit  far  different  from  the  spirit  of  the  gospel,) 
and  did,  therefore,  professedly  imitate  that  prophet 
in  his  severe  manner  of  life,  and  look,  and  diet, 
and  garb,  and  behaviour,  and  doctrine ;  so  his  ex- 
ample belonged  rather  to  the  Mosaic  state,  under 
which  he  lived  and  taught,  than  to  the  Christian 
dispensation,  which  began  where  his  preaching 
ended.  Nor  did  even  the  Baptist  himself  propose 
his  own  practice,  as  a  pattern  to  his  followers :  on 
the  contrary,  when  the  people,  the  publicans,  and 
the  soldiers  inquired  of  him,  \  what  they  should  do 
to  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come,'  he  did  not  exhort 
them  to  go  out  of  the  world  into  the  wilderness ; 
but  gave  them  such  directions  only  as  related  to  a 
faithful  discharge  of  their  duty  in  their  several  sta- 
tions and  callings :  and  when  afterwards  our  Sa- 
viour began  to  enter  on  his  ministry,  and  to  appear 
as  our  Saviour,  by  publishing  the  gospel  of  his 
kingdom,  we  find  nothing  either  in  his  actions  or 
his  doctrine,  to  countenance  that  recluse  and  soli- 
tary state,  which  some  since,  who  would  be  thought 
best  to  have  imitated  his  example  and  obeyed  his 
precepts,  have  so  zealously  espoused  and  practised. 
His  divine  discourses  were  chiefly  spent  in  press- 
ing men  to  exercise  those  graces  which  adorn  the 
sociable  state :  even  his  first  sermon  on  the  mount, 
to  the  multitude,  did,  in  the  entrance  of  it,  recom- 
mend and  enjoin  a  public,  conspicuous,  and  ex- 
emplary virtue;  and  (with  some  allusion,  perhaps, 
to  that  eminence  on  which  he  sat,  and  the  com- 

1  Luke,  i.  17;  ix.  55. 


44  ON    RELIGIOUS    RETIREMENT. 

pany  which  surrounded  him)  he  then  likened  his 
disciples  to  *  a  city  set  on  a  hill,  that  cannot  be 
hid ; '  he  commanded  them  to  '  put  their  light  in  a 
candlestick,  not  under  a  bushel ;  and  so  to  make  it 
shine  before  men,  that  they,  seeing  their  good 
works,  might  glorify  their  Father  which  is  in 
heaven., ' 

Far  be  it  from  me,  however,  to  condemn  all 
those  good  and  holy  persons  who  have  betaken 
themselves  to  this  solitary  and  austere  course  of 
living.  Doubtless,  many  of  them  were  actuated 
by  a  sincere,  but  misguided  principle  of  piety  ;  the 
fruits  of  which,  though  mixed  with  a  great  alloy 
of  superstition,  did  yet,  in  divers  respects,  redound 
to  the  credit  of  religion,  and  the  good  of  mankind. 
But  supposing  these  to  be  real,  yet  they  were,  I 
say,  uncommanded  instances  of  virtue ;  not  possi- 
ble, or,  if  possible,  not  fit  to  be  practised  by  the 
far  greater  part  of  Christians.  The  retreat,  there- 
fore, which  I  am  speaking  of,  is  not  that  of  monks 
and  hermits,  but  of  men  living  in  the  world,  and 
going  out  of  it  for  a  time,  in  order  to  return  into 
it ;  it  is  a  temporary,  not  a  total  retreat ;  such  as 
we  may  leave  off,  or  resume  at  pleasure,  accord- 
ing as  we  have  need  of  it,  or  an  opportunity  for  it ; 
such  as  is  consistent  with  all  the  business,  and  even 
with  the  innocent  pleasures  of  life ;  and  is  so  far 
from  interfering  with  the  duties  of  our  public 
offices  and  stations,  that  it  disposes  and  enables  us 
for  the  better  discharge  of  them.  It  is  this  sort  of 
retreat  which  may  properly  be  made  the  matter  of 
general  exhortation  from  the  pulpit,  because  it  is 
really  matter  of  general  obligation  to  every  good 
and  sincere  Christian. 

1    Matt.  v.  14,  15, 16- 


BY   BISHOP    ATTERBURY.  45 

No  man  is,  or  ought  to  be,  so  deeply  immersed 
in  the  affairs  of  this  world,  as  not  to  be  able  to  re- 
tire from  them  now  and  then  into  his  closet,  there 
to  mind  the  concerns  of  another.  Every  day  of 
his  life,  early  or  late,  some  moments  he  may  and 
must  find  to  bestow  this  way  :  the  Lord's-day,  par- 
ticularly, is  a  great  opportunity  of  this  kind,  which 
can  never  wholly  be  neglected  without  indevotion,  or 
even  without  scandal.  And  such  also  is  the  annual 
season  of  recollection,  in  which  we  are.  At  such  times 
as  these,  either  when  the  labours  and  ordinary  occu- 
pations of  life  cease,  or  when  public  diversions  and 
etertainments  are  forbidden ;  then  every  one,  the 
noble  and  the  mean,  the  wealthy  and  the  poor, 
hath  it  certainly  in  his  power,  if  it  be  but  in  his 
heart,  to  retire — to  step  aside  from  the  hurry  and 
vanities  of  life,  and  all  the  allurements  of  sense, 
and  to  examine,  improve,  and  to  enjoy  himself  in 
private. 

That  we  may  be  all  excited  so  to  do,  I  shall  pro- 
ceed, in  the  next  place,  to  represent  to  you  the 
several  advantages  attending  this  religious  prac- 
tice ;  whether  we  consider  it,  as  a  means  of  effa- 
cing the  ill  impressions  made  on  our  minds  in  daily 
conversation,  or  as  an  opportunity  of  pursuing 
further  degrees  of  perfection,  and  abounding  in  all 
the  methods  of  spiritual  improvement. 

The  advantages  of  the  first  kind,  which  it  af- 
fords us,  are  plainly  such  as  these :  that  it  unites 
and  fixes  our  scattered  thoughts ;  places  us  out  of 
the  reach  of  the  most  dangerous  temptations ;  frees 
us  from  the  insinuating  contagion  of  ill  examples ; 
and  hushes  and  lays  asleep  those  troublesome  pas- 
sions, which  are  the  great  disturbers  of  our  repose 
and  happiness. 


46  ON    RELIGIOUS    RETIREMENT. 

A  dissipation  of  thought  is  the  natural  and  un- 
avoidable effect  of  our  conversing  much  in  the 
world  ;  where  we  cannot  help  squandering  away  a 
great  deal  of  our  time  upon  useless  objects,  of  no 
true  worth  in  themselves,  and  of  no  real  concern  to 
us.  We  roll  on  in  a  circle  of  vain  empty  pleasures, 
and  are  delivered  over  continually  from  one  slight 
amusement  to  another ;  ever  seemingly  very  busy, 
and  ever  really  very  idle  ;  applying  ourselves  with- 
out respite  to  that,  which  it  becomes  us  most  to 
neglect,  and  utterly  neglectful  of  that  one  thing 
necessary,  which  it  becomes  and  behoves  us  most 
to  pursue.  This  gives  us  by  degrees  such  a  levity 
and  wantonness  of  spirit,  as  refuses  admittance  to 
all  serious  thoughts,  and  renders  us  incapable  of  re- 
flection ;  makes  our  closet  a  terrible  place  to  us, 
and  solitude  a  burden.  To  retrieve  ourselves  from 
this  vain,  uncertain,  roving,  distracted  way  of  think- 
ing and  living,  it  is  requisite  to  retire  frequently, 
and  to  converse  much  with  (what  we  above  all 
things  love,  and  yet  above  all  things  hate  to  con- 
verse with)  ourselves  ;  to  inure  our  minds  to  recol- 
lection, to  fix  them  on  the  greatest  and  most  con- 
cerning objects,  those  which  religion  suggests,  and 
which  will,  by  their  importance,  deserve,  and  en- 
gage, and  command  our  attention  ;  till  the  busy 
swarm  of  vain  images,  that  besets  us,  be  thoroughly 
dispersed,  and  the  several  scattered  rays  of  thought, 
by  being  thus  collected  together,  do  by  little  and 
little  warm  our  frozen  hearts,  and  at  last  produce 
an  holy  flame. 

The  expedience  of  retirement  is  yet  greater,  as  it 
removes  us  out  of  the  way  of  the  most  pressing  and 
powerful  temptations  that  are  incident  to  human 
nature.     We  all  know  by  experience,  that  these 


BY    BISHOP   ATTERBURY.  47 

meet  us  most  frequently  and  affect  us  most  strongly 
in  society;  where  our  senses,  the  great  inlets  of 
temptation,  are  most  awakened,  and  tempting-  ob- 
jects, by  their  number  and  nearness,  make  the 
most  vivid  and  lasting  impressions  upon  us.  In- 
deed, there  is  no  place,  no  state  or  scene  of  life, 
that  hath  not  its  proper  and  peculiar  temptations; 
even  solitude  itself  is  not  without  them  ;  but  they 
are  few  and  faint,  in  comparison  with  those  to 
which  our  appearance  on  the  great  stage  of  the 
wjprld  exposes  us  ;  and,  whenever  they  attack  us  in 
our  recesses,  they  do,  or  may,  find  us  prepared, 
and  upon  our  guard;  we  are  then  at  leisure  to  en- 
counter them,  and  have  helps  near  at  hand,  which, 
if  made  use  of,  will  enable  us  to  decline  or  baffle 
them.  Whereas,  in  public,  we  are  merely  passive 
to  such  impressions;  which  strike  our  minds  so 
violently,  and  succeed  each  other  so  fast,  that  we 
have  no  opportunity,  no  strength,  no  inclination 
almost  to  withstand  them. 

The  great  risk  which  virtue  runs  in  company 
is  from  the  neighbourhood  of  ill  examples,  which 
are  of  so  contagious  a  nature,  that  if  we  live  much 
amongst  them  we  shall  as  surely  be  corrupted  by 
them,  as  he  that  often  breathes  in  ill  air  will  at  last 
partake  of  the  infection.  It  is  dangerous  for  the 
most  innocent  person  in  the  world  to  be  too  fre- 
quently and  nearly  a  witness  to  the  commission  of 
vice  and  folly.  Such  views  lessen  the  natural 
horror  we  have  for  such  actions,  and  render  the 
thoughts  of  them  more  familiar  and  less  displeas- 
ing to  us.  Especially  when  we  are  used  to  see  ill 
things  practised  by  persons  whom  we  regard ;  the 
favourable  opinion  we  have  of  the  doer  extends 


48  ON    RELIGIOUS    RBTIREMENT. 

itself  to  the  action  done,  and  leads  us  insensibly 
from  seeing  to  approving,  and  from  approving-  to 
imitating.  And  thus  being  (the  very  best  of  us) 
prone  to  do  evil,  and  living  in  the  midst  of  evil ; 
being  attacked  thus  from  without,  and  betrayed 
from  within  ;  we  are  not  capable  of  making  an  effec- 
tual resistance :  the  only  refuge  we  have  is  in  re- 
treat, where  we  may  at  leisure  correct  the  ill  im- 
pressions that  have  been  made  upon  us,  and  by 
disuse  and  distance  weaken  the  force  of  those 
pernicious  influences  which  we  could  not  wholly 
avoid. 

Another  advantage  which  retirement  affords  us 
is,  that  it  calms  and  composes  all  the  passions;  those 
especially  of  the  tumultuous  kind ;  which,  while  the 
business  and  pleasures  of  life  possess  our  hearts, 
are  under  a  .restless  and  violent  agitation.  We  sel- 
dom mix  long  in  conversation,  without  meeting 
with  some  accident  that  ruffles  and  disturbs  us; 
somewhat  that  plays  either  upon  our  hopes  or  our 
fears,  our  aversions  or  desires.  An  injurious  or 
slighting  word  is  thrown  out,  which  we  think  our- 
selves obliged  to  resent ;  or  some  innocent  expres- 
sion of  ours  is  misinterpreted  and  resented  by 
others,  and  that  provokes  a  return.  Our  enemy 
comes  in  our  way,  and  kindles  thoughts  of  aversion 
and  hatred  in  us;  we  look  upon  those  who  are 
above  us  in  all  the  advantages  of  life  with  envious 
eyes,  and  with  contempt  on  those  who  are  beneath 
us.  Thus  are  we  delivered  over  from  passion  to 
passion,  tossed  and  disquieted  in  our  minds,  during 
the  intercourse  we  maintain  with  the  world.  But 
when  we  quit  it  and  retire,  all  these  winds  are  pre- 
sently laid,  and  there  is  a  perfect  calm.     The  ob- 


BY    BISHOP    ATTERBURY.  49 

jects  which  excite  us  being  removed,  our  appetites 
also  languish  and  die  away ;  we  possess  our  souls 
in  patience  and  peace,  and  enjoy  a  profound  tran- 
quillity and  rest,  the  pleasure  of  which  is  great  to 
those  who  are  so  happy  as  to  have  a  relish  for  it; 
and  is  enhanced  by  being  always  tasted  with  inno- 
cence. 

Wouldst  thou  then  be  free  from  envy  and  scorn, 
from  anger  and  strife,  fly  from  the  occasions  of 
them ;  steal  away  from  the  great  scene  of  passion 
and  business  into  thy  privacy,  shut  the  doors  about 
thee, '  commune  with  thine  own  heart  in  thy  cham- 
ber, and  be  still.' '  There  all  animosities  are  for- 
gotten, all  pursuits,  all  competition  cease;  there 
all  marks  of  distinction  are  laid  aside;  the  great 
and  the  lowly,  the  prince  and  the  subject,  are 
upon  the  level ;  equally  under  the  eye  of  one  com- 
mon Master,  equally  desirous  of  pleasing  him,  and 
mindless  of  lesser  interests  and  concerns.  There 
the  vanities  and  vexations  of  this  world  are  shut 
out,  and  the  considerations  of  another  are  let  in; 
and  our  soul  enjoys  that  sweet  contentment  and  re- 
pose which  it  enjoys  nowhere  else  on  this  side 
heaven. 

I  have  hitherto  considered  the  usefulness  o£  reli- 
gious retreat,  with  respect  to  some  ill  impressions 
made  upon  us  in  conversation,  which  it  removes : 
— I  shall  now  consider  it  as  productive  of  the  chief 
Christian  graces  and  virtues,  inasmuch  as  it  af- 
fords us  the  best  opportunity  of  knowing  God  and 
ourselves,  and  of  taking  all  the  proper  methods  to 
reconcile  and  approve  ourselves  to  God,  which  are 
consequent  upon  such  a  knowledge.     For  though 

!  Psalm  iv.  4. 


50  ON    RELIGIOUS    RETIREMENT. 

it  be  expedient  for  every  rank  and  order  of  men, 
yet  it  is  more  particularly  advantageous  to  penitents, 
to  '  go  up*  with  our  Saviour  '  into  the  mountain, 
apart,  to  pray.' 

It  is  our  duty  and  our  privilege,  our  chief  honour 
and  happiness,  to  be  'acquainted  with  God;'1  and 
this  acquaintance  can  never  be  made,  but  where  we 
divest  ourselves  of  all  other  acquaintance — in  our 
closets.  When  we  have  called  off  our  thoughts 
from  worldly  pursuits  and  engagements,  then  (and 
not  till  then)  are  we  at  liberty  to  fix  them  on  the 
best,  the  most  deserving,  and  desirable  of  objects — 
God;  to  study  his  blessed  nature  and  perfections; 
to  imprint  a  filial  awe  of  him  on  our  hearts,  a  lively 
sense  of  his  perpetual  inspection  and  presence ;  to 
abound  in  all  the  methods  of  devout  application  to 
him,  in  acts  of  petition  and  praise,  of  joy  and  won- 
der, of  submission  and  hope,  of  love  and  affiance; 
to  open  all  our  wants  and  impart  all  our  griefs  to 
him,  and  to  express,  in  the  most  significant  man- 
ner we  are  able,  our  entire  and  unlimited  depen- 
dence upon  him  ;  till,  by  often  dwelling  on  such 
thoughts  and  reflections  as  these,  we  have  made 
them  familiar,  habitual,  and  natural  to  us ;  and  can 
havens  easy  and  delightful  a  recourse  to  God,  in  all 
accidents  and  upon  all  occasions,  as  a  son  hath  to  a 
beloved  and  loving  parent,  who  he  knows  is  at  all 
times  able  to  assist  and  ready  to  receive  him:  in  a 
word,  till  we  can  look  up  to  God,  in  each  step  of  our 
conduct,  as  the  supreme  end  and  guide  of  all  our 
actions,  the  fixed  centre  of  all  our  wishes,  desires, 
and  designs;  till  we  bring  ourselves  to  love  nothing 
in  competition  with  him,  nothing  but  in  order  to 

1  Job.  xxii.  21. 


BY    BISHOP    ATTERBURY.  51 

the  enjoyment  of  him;  and  resolve  to  do  nothing, 
and  be  nothing,  but  what  we  are  sure  will  please 
him. 

Can  any  thing  refine,  raise,  or  ennoble  our  na- 
tures more  than  such  a  conversation  as  this,  which 
is  thus  begun,  improved,  and  perfected  in  soli- 
tude ?  Shall  we  not  think  it  worth  our  while  to 
cease,  for  a  time,  from  cultivating  useless  and  pe- 
rishing friendships  with  men,  that  we  may  be  the 
more  at  leisure  and  the  better  qualified  to  enter 
into  this  divine  correspondence,  which  is  of  the 
vastest  concern  to  us,  and  upon  which  our  ever- 
lasting welfare  depends  ? 

While,  indeed,  our  hearts  are  deeply  engaged  in 
the  concerns  of  this  world,  we  cannot  well  relish 
the  pleasures  of  such  a  spiritual  commerce ;  but, 
after  we  have  once  accustomed  and  inured  our- 
selves to  it,  we  shall  find  it  the  most  delightful  en- 
tertainment of  the  mind  of  man,  pleasing  as  light 
to  the  eyes,  '  sweeter  than  honey  and  the  honey- 
comb.' Sensual  men  may  make  sport  with  such  a 
pretence,  and  call  it  enthusiasm,  and  the  product  of 
an  heated  imagination  ;  but  they,  that  taste  the 
satisfaction,  know  it  to  be  real,  and  would  not  part 
with  it  for  all  the  delights  this  world  can  afford  ; 
and  which  (in  the  disparaging  phrase  of  the  apos- 
tle) they  '  count  but  as  dung,  in  comparison  of 
the  excellency  of  this  knowledge  of  God  and 
Christ  Jesus.'1 

As  religious  retirement  is  a  great  means  of  ad- 
vancing us  in  the  knowledge  of  God,  so  doth  it 
assist  us  towards  attaining  a  true  knowledge  of 
ourselves;  towards   searching  and  trying   all  our 

1  Phil.  iii.  8. 

E  2 


52  ON    RELIGIOUS    RETIREMENT. 

ways,  and  getting  a  right  information  concern- 
ing the  state  of  our  consciences.  He  that  will 
thrive  in  his  temporal  affairs  must  often  balance 
his  accounts,  examine  his  gains  and  losses,  and 
see  what  proportion  they  bear  to  each  other; 
consider  where  his  conduct  may  have  been  faulty 
in  any  respect,  and  how  for  the  future  to  recti- 
fy it.  The  same  vigilance  and  care  is  requisite 
in  relation  to  our  spiritual  concerns  also ;  and 
we  can  never  exert  it  effectually  but  in  the  closet, 
where  privacy  and  silence  befriend  our  enquiries. 
When  the  importunity  of  outward  objects  ceases, 
when  the  noise  and  avocations  of  a  troublesome 
world  are  at  a  distance,  we  may  enter  upon  these 
searches  without  difficulty,  and  finish  them  without 
interruption.  We  may  then  look  inwards,  and 
take  a  distinct  view  of  what  at  other  times  passes 
there  unobserved  ;  of  our  hidden  inclinations  and 
aversions;  of  those  springs  which  secretly  move 
us  in  all  our  pursuits  ;  of  the  temptations  that  be- 
set us  hardest,  and  most  frequently  foil  us  ;  of  the 
ground  that  we  have  lost  or  got  in  our  several  en- 
counters. And  when  we  are  advanced  thus  far  in  the 
knowledge  of  ourselves,  and  bf  our  ruling  sins  and 
infirmities,  we  have  taken  the  most  useful  and  ne- 
cessary step  towards  abounding  in  the  three  great 
duties  of  the  penitent,  contrition,  resolution,  and 
prayer. 

Contrition  is  an  holy  grief,  excited  by  a  lively 
sense,  not  only  of  the  punishment  due  to  our  guilt, 
(that  the  schools  call  attrition,)  but  likewise  of  the 
infinite  goodness  of  God,  against  which  we-  have 
offended  ;  accompanied  with  a  detestation  of  our 
gin,  and  of  ourselves,  for  the  sake  of  it.     At  this 


BY   BISHOP    ATTERBURY.  63 

act  of  the  mind,  repentance  (properly  speaking) 
begins;  and  this  godly  concern  of  heart  is  rarely 
attained  (to  be  sure,  it  can  never  be  duly  exerted 
and  improved)  but  in  private.  And,  therefore,  in 
the  story  of  St.  Peter,  we  may  observe  that,  as 
soon  as  a  conviction  of  his  guilt  had  seized  him,  it 
is  said,  '  he  went  out,  and  wept  bitterly  :* 1  he  with- 
drew into  a  secret  place,  where  he  might  mourn  his 
own  fall  with  freedom ;  where  he  might  feed,  and 
raise  up  to  a  due  height,  the  inward  anguish  he 
felt,  and  indulge  himself  in  all  the  expressions  of 
sincere  sorrow.  The  wounds  of  conscience,  like 
other  wounds,  though  generally  received  in  pub- 
lic, must  always  be  healed  in  private  :  there  they 
may  be  laid  open  and  searched  to  the  bottom ; 
there  the  raging  smart  of  them  is  best  endured, 
and  there  suitable  remedies  are  most  easily  and 
most  usefully  applied ;  where  leisure  and  rest,  si- 
lence and  a  proper  discipline,  assist  the  patient 
and  promote  the  cure. 

The  next  step  to  contrition,  is  resolution,  or  a 
firm  immutable  purpose  of  heart,  never  more  to  al- 
low ourselves  in  that  transgression,  which  we  now 
abominate  and  deplore.  And,  in  order  to  the 
forming  such  a  well-weighed  and  stable  resolution, 
there  must  be  a  calm  and  clear  foresight  of  the 
difficulties  which  may  attend  the  execution  of  it, 
and  a  just  computation  of  our  own  strength  to 
bear  up  against  them ;  we  must  deliberately  con- 
sider under  what  circumstances  the  temptation, 
against  which  we  are  now  arming  ourselves,  has 
beset  us  hardest,  and  how,  for  the  future,  we  may 
best  decline  them;  what  helps   and  supports  we 

1  Matt.  xvi.  57 


54  ON   RELIGIOUS    RETIREMENT. 

have  by  experience  found  most  useful,  and  how, 
in  the  day  of  trial,  we  may  be  secure  of  them ;  to 
what  a  broken,  dispirited  state  of  mind  we  have 
already  reduced  ourselves,  by  so  often  and  lightly 
departing  from  what  we  had  proposed ;  and,  with 
how  much  greater  difficulty,  every  time  that  we 
give  way,  we  recover  our  ground.  I  need  not 
prove  to  you,  that  these,  and  the  like  reflections, 
which  are  necessary  towards  our  resolving  well 
and  wisely,  can  never  be  dwelt  on,  in  all  their  due 
compass  and  force,  but  at  leisure,  and  in  sacred 
retirement.  Doubtless,  the  good  Psalmist  had 
been  some  time  in  his  closet  and  on  his  knees, 
when  he  uttered  those  emphatical  words,  ■  I  have 
sworn,  and  am  stedfastly  purposed,  to  keep  thy 
righteous  judgments.' ' 

But  of  all  the  duties  of  the  penitent,  that  which 
privacy,  best  qualifies  us  for  is  prayer,8  which  it 
enables  us  to  perform  in  such  a  manner  as  is  likely 
to  be  most  prevalent  and  effectual.  Great  indeed 
is  the  excellence  and  advantage  of  public  devo- 
tions, as  they  testify  our  common  reverence  of  the 
divine  Being ;  as  they  are  best  fitted  to  implore,  or 

1  Psalm  cxix.  100. 

2  Tivog  evticev  fig  to  opog  avafSaivei ;  7raidevo)v  r)fxag  on 
kciKov  t)  tprjuia  kcu  i)  fiovwaig  ot'civ  ivrvyxavfiv  dky  tq  0£<£. 
Ala  tvto  (Tvvt\u)g  tig  rag  tpr/fiag  dirtiai^  koikIl  SiavvKTtptvei 
7roXXa.Kig  f.vxoptvog,  7raidevu)v  r)fidg  Kai  tx]v  dirb  rS  KatpS 
Kiu  tt\v  ctTcb  rS  totth  SqpdaOai  kv  rolg  tv^alg  drapaZLav' 
t'lffv^iag  yap  fiTjTTjp  y  tprjfiog,  kcii  ya\//v?j,  /cai  Xifirjv  cnrdv- 
nov  diraWaTTHoa  Sopvfiajv  y'lfidg. — "  Our  Lord's  going  up  into 
the  mountain  was  designed  to  teach  us  the  advantage  of  solitude 
in  our  converse  with  God.  He  continually  withdraws  to  lonely 
places,  and  there  often  passes  the  night  in  prayer,  for  the  purpose 
of  instructing  us  to  seek  an  undisturbed  time  and  place  for  our 
devotions ;  for  retirement  is  the  parent  of  tranquillity,  and  the 
haven  where  we  find  shelter  from  the  noise  and  tumult  of  the 
world  "    Chrysost.  in  Matt.  xiv. 


BY   BISHOP    ATTERBURY.  55 

acknowledge  public  blessings,  and  as  tbey  excite 
a  public  emulation  in  the  breasts  of  sincere  wor 
shippers.  However,  in  some  respects,  they  must 
yield  the  pre-eminence  to  closet-prayer;  particu- 
larly in  this,  that  they  are  not  so  well  calculated 
as  that,  to  procure  ease  and  repose  of  conscience  to 
the  sinner,  and  to  adjust  particular  accounts  be- 
tween God  and  our  souls.  For  it  is  of  special  use 
to  this  purpose,  in  these  three  respects;  as  it  af- 
fords us  the  best  opportunity  of  being  fixed,  fer- 
vent, and  circumstantial  in  our  addresses  to  God. 

In  the  solemn  service  of  the  sanctuary,  let  us  en- 
deavour never  so  much  to  prevent  distractions,  we 
shall  now  and  then  be  sensible  of  them :  outward 
objects  will  break  in  upon  our  senses,  and  divert 
the  application  of  our  minds ;  even  the  length  of 
the  offices,  and  the  daily  return  of  the  same  forms, 
will,  to  persons  not  rightly  qualified  and  disposed, 
occasion  spiritual  languors  and  wanderings.  And 
this  is  not  the  case  only  of  stated  forms  :  the  same 
inconvenience  doth,  in  a  much  higher  degree,  be- 
long to  unpremeditated  prayer;  the  hearers  of 
which  must  first  judge  of  the  fitness,  both  of  the 
matter  and  the  expression,  before  they  can  reason- 
ably join  in  what  they  hear.  And  thus  the  novel- 
ty of  the  phrase,  instead  of  fixing,  breaks  and  di- 
vides the  attention  of  a  sincere  worshipper;  his 
curiosity,  indeed,  may  be  awakened  by  this  means, 
but  his  devotion  is  certainly  checked  and  sus- 
pended. 

Now  these  obstacles  are  all  removed,  these  in- 
conveniences are  prevented,  when  we  pray  in  pri- 
vate. We  are  then  placed  immediately  under  the 
eye  of  God,  which  awes  us;  but  under  no  other 
eye,  and    in   the   neighbourhood  of  no  other  ob- 


56  ON   RELIGIOUS    RETIREMENT. 

jects,  which  might  divert  or  discompose  us:  we 
are  at  liberty  to  employ  that  part  of  our  time  in 
the  performance  of  this  service,  when  we  find  our- 
selves best  disposed  for  it;  to  make  choice  of  our 
own  thoughts  and  our  own  words;  such  as  are 
best  suited  to  our  present  necessities  and  desires; 
and  what  is  thus  passing  within  ourselves,  we  can- 
not but  perceive  and  attend  to :  we  may  break  off 
from  the  duty,  whenever  we  find  our  attention 
flags,  and  return  to  it  at  a  more  seasonable  oppor- 
tunity. 

Nor  are  we  capable,  at  such  times,  of  being  more 
fixed  only,  but  likewise  more  fervent  and  inflamed. 
True  religion  is  ever  modest  and  reserved  in  its 
demeanour,  when  it  appears  in  public ;  jealous  of 
doing  any  thing  that  may  savour  of  vanity  and 
ostentation ;  unwilling  to  allow  itself  in  any  such 
earnestness  of  speech,  or  singularity  of  behaviour, 
as  may  call  off  the  eyes  and  ears  of  others  to  ob- 
serve them :  it  contents  itself,  for  the  most  part, 
with  a  composed  and  serious  look,  with  a  simple 
and  unaffected  carriage.  But,  when  public  regards 
and  restraints  are  taken  off,  the  pious  soul  may 
then  let  itself  loose  into  the  highest  fervours  of 
zeal,  into  the  freest  raptures  of  thought,  and  into  a 
suitable  vehemence  and  warmth  of  expression  :  there 
is  no  sort  of  holy  address,  which  it  is  not  then  al- 
lowed to  make  use  of;  no  outward  signs  of  devo- 
tion and  reverence,  which  it  may  jiot  decently 
abound  in. 

There  is  yet  another  great  advantage  that  attends 
our  private  devotions ;  they  give  us  leave  to  be  as 
express  and  particular  as  we  please  in  our  represen- 
tations. In  the  church,  the  sinner  and  the  saint, 
men  of  all  ranks,  distinction,  and  attainments  in 


BY    BISHOP   ATTERBURY.  57 

virtue,  must  join  in  the  same  common  forms  :  and 
though  each  of  them  may,  by  a  sudden  glance  of 
mind,  adapt  the  general  words  to  his  own  circum- 
stances, yet  one  branch  of  the  service  presses  too 
fast  upon  another,  to  admit  of  any  pause  between 
them.  And  they,  therefore,  who  lie  under  the  load 
of  any  particular  guilt,  rise  not  from  their  knees 
with  so  much  comfort,  as  they  would  have  done, 
had  they  been  at  liberty  to  dwell  upon  it,  and  con- 
fess it  in  all  its  aggravations.  This  liberty,  their 
closet,  and  that  alone,  can  afford  them.  There 
they  may  expatiate  as  much  as  they  please  upon 
their  wants  and  unworthiness :  there  they  may 
pour  out  all  their  complaints  to  God,  and  lay  open 
all  their  griefs  and  fears,  and  send  up  all  their 
thanks  and  acknowledgments  :  there  importunities 
are  not  forbidden,  repetitions  are  not  unbecoming; 
but  they  may  persist  knocking  till  it  is  opened  to 
them,  and  asking  till  they  have  obtained. 

These  are  some  of  the  many  spiritual  advant- 
ages, which  the  present  hours  of  holy  recollection, 
when  well  employed,  will  be  sure  to  afford  us.  And 
God  grant,  that  all  of  us  may,  as  we  have  opportu- 
nity and  leisure,  so  employ  them ! 

Indeed,  the  greater  our  sphere  of  public  action 
is,  the  less  time  we  can  allow  ourselves  to  spend  in 
these  religious  exercises ;  but  still  some  of  it  is  due 
to  them,  nor  can  any  secular  cares  or  avocations 
whatsoever  wholly  excuse  us  from  paying  it.  Our 
blessed  Lord,  we  are  sure,  had  very  great  business 
to  transact  with  mankind,  and  a  very  short  time  in 
which  to  finish  it ;  and  yet,  during  his  three  years' 
conversation  on  earth,  we  find  him  often  exchang- 
ing the  duties  of  the  active  and  public  state,  for 
those  of  the  solitary  and  private, — '  sending  the 


58  ON    RELIGIOUS    RETIREMENT. 

multitudes  away,  and  going  up  into  the  mountain, 
apart,  to  pray.'  And  we  are  sure,  that  in  this,  as 
well  as1  other  respects,  he  '  left  us  an  example,  that 
we  should  follow  his  steps.' ' 

To  him,  together  with  the  Father  and  the  blessed 
Spirit,  three  persons  and  one  God,  be  ascribed  all 
majesty,  dominion,  and  power,  now  and  for  ever- 
more.— Amen. 

1  2  Peter,  ii.  21. 


SERMON    IV. 

ON  MORTIFICATION. 
BY  BISHOP  HALL. 


(Joseph  Hall  was  born  in  1574.    In  1627  he  was  made  bishop  of  Worcester 
whence,  in  1641,  he  was  translated  to  Norwich.    Died  1666.] 


SERMON    IV. 


Gal.  h.  20. 

/  am  crucified  with  Christ :  nevertheless  I  live. 

He  that  was  once  tossed  in  the  confluence  of  two 
seas,'  was  once  no  less  straitened  in  his  resolutions 
betwixt  life  and  death. 2  Neither  doth  my  text 
argue  him  in  any  other  case  here :  as  there  he 
knew  not  whether  he  should  choose,  so  here  he 
knew  not  whether  he  had.  '  I  am  crucified, '  there 
he  is  dead ;  yet  *  I  live, '  there  he  is  alive  again  : 
1  yet  not  I, '  there  he  lives  not ;  but  Christ  in  me,' 
there  he  more  than  lives.  This  holy  correction 
makes  my  text  full  of  wonders,  full  of  sacred  rid- 
dles. 1.  The  living  God  is  dead  upon  the  cross, 
'Christ  crucified.'  2.  St.  Paul  who  died  by  the 
sword,  dies  on  the  cross.  3.  St.  Paul  who  was  not 
Paul  till  after  Christ's  death,  is  yet  crucified  with 
Christ.  4.  St.  Paul  thus  crucified  yet  lives.  5.  St. 
Paul  lives  not  himself,  whilst  he  lives.  6.  Christ 
who  is  crucified,  lives  in  Paul,  who  was  crucified 
with*him. 

Acts,  xxvii.  41.  'Phil.  i.  23. 


62  ON    MORTIFICATION. 

See  then  here,  both  a  Lent  and  an  Easter  ;  a  Lent 
of  mortification — 'I  am  crucified  with  Christ;'  an 
Easter  of  resurrection  and  life — '  I  live ;  yet 
not  I,  but  Christ  lives  in  me/  The  Lent  of  my 
text  will  be  sufficient  (as  proper)  for  this  season; 
wherein  my  speech  shall  pass  through  three  stages 
of  discourse:  Christ  crucified,  St.  Paul  crucified, 
St.  Paul  crucified  with  Christ.  In  all  which, 
your  Christian  patience  shall  as  much  shorten  my 
way,  as  my  care  shall  shorten  the  way  to  your  pa- 
tience. 

Christ's  cross  is  the  first  lesson  of  our  infancy, 
worthy  to  be  our  last,  and  all.  The  great  doctor  of 
the  Gentiles  affected  not  to  fly  any  higher  pitch. 
Grande  cruris  sacramentum,  as  Ambrose  writes: 
this  is  the  greatest  wonder  that  ever  earth  or  heaven 
yielded.  God  incarnate,  was  /uiya  fxv^rjpiov,1  *  a 
great  mystery  ;'  but  God  suffering  and  dying  was 
so  much  more,  as  death  is  more  penal  than  birth. 
The  Godhead  of  man,  and  the  blood  of  God,  are 
two  such  miracles,  as  the  angels  of  heaven  can 
never  enough  look  into,  never  admire  enough. 

Ruffinus  tells  us,  that  amongst  the  sacred  cha- 
racters of  the  Egyptians,  the  cross  was  anciently 
one,  which  was  said  to  signify  eternal  life ;  hence, 
their  learneder  sort  were  converted  to,  and  confirmed 
in  the  faith.  Surely,  we  know,  that  in  God's  hiero- 
glyphics, eternal  life  is  both  represented  and  exhi- 
bited to  us  by  the  cross.  That  the  cross  of  Christ 
was  made  of  the  tree  of  life;  a  slip  whereof  the 
angels  gave  to  Adam's  son,  out  of  Paradise,  is  but 
a  Jewish  legend ;  Galatine  may  believe  it,  not  we. 

1   I  Tim.  iii.  16. 


BY    BISHOP    HALL.  63 

But,  that  it  is  made  the  tree  of  life  to  all  believers, 
we  are  sure.  This  is  the  only  instrument  to 
scale  heaven ;  never  man  ascended  thither,  but 
by  it.  By  this,  Christ  himself  climbed  up  to  his 
own  glory.  'Father,  glorify  thy  name;'  that  is, 
saith  he,  'Lift  me  up  to  the  tree,  not  of  my 
shame,  but  of  my  triumph.'  '  Behold,  we  preach 
Christ  crucified,'  (saith  St.  Paul,)  'to  the  Jews 
a  stumbling-block,  to  the  Greeks  foolishness; 
but  to  them  which  are  called,  Christ  the  power 
of  God,  and  the  wisdom  of  God.M  Foolish 
men,  that  stumble  at  power,  and  deride  wis- 
dom! Upbraid  us  now,  ye  fond  Jews  and  pa- 
gans, with  a  crucified  Saviour;  it  is  our  glory,  it  is 
our  happiness,  which  ye  make  our  reproach.  Had 
not  our  Saviour  died,  he  could  have  been  no  Savi- 
our for  us ;  had  not  our  Saviour  died,  we  could  not 
have  lived.  See  now  the  flag  of  our  dear  Re- 
deemer, this  cross,  shining  eminently  in  our  fore- 
heads ;  and  if  we  had  any  place  more  high,  more 
conspicuous,  more  honourable,  there  we  would 
advance  it.  O  blessed  Jesu,  when  thou  art  thus 
lifted  up  on  thy  cross,  thou  drawest  all  hearts  unto 
thee :  there  thou  '  leadest  captivity  captive,  and 
givest  gifts  unto  men.'  Ye  are  deceived,  O  ye 
blind  Jews  and  paynims,  ye  are  deceived.  It  is  not 
a  gibbet,  it  is  a  throne  of  honour,  to  which  our  Sa- 
viour is  raised;  a  throne  of  such  honour  as  to 
which  heaven  and  earth  and  hell,  do  and  must 
bow.  The  sun  hides  his  awful  head,  the  earth 
trembles,  the  rocks  rend,  the  graves  open,  and  all 
the  frame  of  nature  doth  homage  to  their  Lord  in 

'  1  Cor.  i.  23. 


64  ON    MORTIFICATION. 

this  secret,  but  divine  pomp  of  his  crucifixion.  And 
while  ye  think  his  feet  and  hands  despicably  fixed, 
behold,  he  is  powerfully  trampling  upon  hell  and 
death,  and  setting  up  trophies  of  his  most  glorious 
victory,  and  scattering  everlasting  crowns  and 
sceptres  unto  all  believers.  O  Saviour !  I  do  more 
adore  thee,  on  the  calvary  of  thy  passion,  than  on 
the  Tabor  of  thy  transfiguration,  or  the  Olivet  of 
thine  ascension ;  and  cannot  so  feelingly  bless 
thee  for — '  Father,  glorify  me/  as  for — '  My  God, 
my  God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken  me :  since  it  is 
no  news  for  God  to  be  great  and  glorious ;  but,  for 
the  eternal  and  ever-living  God  to  be  abased ;  to 
be  abased  unto  death,  to  the  death  of  the  cross,  is 
that  which  could  not  but  amaze  the  angels,  and 
confound  devils ;  and  so  much  more  magnifies 
thine  infinite  mercy,  by  how  much  an  infinite  per- 
son would  become  more  ignominious.  All  ho- 
sannahs  of  men,  all  allelujahs  of  saints  and  angels, 
come  short  of  this  majestic  humiliation.  '  Bless- 
ing, honour,  glory,  and  power,  be  unto  him  that  sit- 
teth  upon  the  throne,  and  to  the  Lamb,  for  ever  and 
ever.' '  And  ye,  beloved,  as  ever  ye  hope  to  make 
music  in  heaven,  learn  to  tune  your  harps  to  the 
note  and  ditty  of  these  heavenly  elders.  Rejoice  in 
this,  and  rejoice  in  nothing  but  this  cross;  not  in 
transitory  honours,  titles,  treasures,  which  will  at 
the  last  leave  you  inconsolately  sorrowful,  but  in 
this  cross  of  Christ ;  whereby  the  world  is  crucified 
to  you,  and  you  to  the  world.  Oh  !  embrace  this 
precious  cross ;  and  say  with  that  blessed  martyr, 
1  My  love  is  crucified/ 8    Those  that  have  searched 

1  Rev.  v.  13.  *  Amor  raeus  crucifixus  est. 


BY    BISHOP    HALL.  65 

into  the  monuments  of  Jerusalem,  write  that  our 
Saviour  was  crucified  with  his  face  to  the  west; 
which,  howsoever  spitefully  meant  of  the  Jews, 
(as  not  allowing  him  worthy  to  look  on  the  holy 
city  and  temple,)  yet,  was  not  without  a  mystery  : 
'His  eyes  looked  to  the  Gentiles/  &c.  saith  the 
Psalmist.  As  Christ,  therefore,  on  his  cross,  looked 
towards  us  sinners  of  the  Gentiles,  so  let  us  look  up 
to  him.  Let  our  eyes  be  lift  up  to  this  brazen 
serpent,  for  the  cure  of  the  deadly  stings  of  that 
old  serpent.  See  him,  O  all  ye  beholders !  see  him 
hanging  upon  the  tree  of  shame,  of  curse,  to  rescue 
you  from  curse  and  confusion,  and  to  feoff  you 
in  everlasting  blessedness.  See  him  stretching  out 
his  arms  to  receive  and  embrace  you ;  hanging 
down  his  head  to  take  view  of  your  misery;  opening 
his  precious  side  to  receive  you  into  his  bosom; 
opening  his  very  heart  to  take  you  in  thither;  pour- 
ing out  thence  water  to  wash  you,  and  blood  to  re- 
deem you.  O,  all  ye  Nazarites  that  pass  by,  out 
of  this  dead  lion  seek  and  find  the  true  honey  of 
unspeakable  and  endless  comfort !  And  ye,  great 
masters  of  Israel,  whose  lips  profess  to  preserve 
knowledge,  leave  all  curious  and  needless  disquisi- 
tions, and  with  that  divine  and  extatical  doctor  of 
the  Gentiles,  care  only  to  know — to  preach — '  Christ 
and  him  crucified.' 

By  this,  though  the  sum  of  the  gospel,  is  not  the 
main  drift  of  my  text.  I  may  not  dwell  in  it, 
though  I  am  loath  to  part  with  so  sweet  a  medita- 
tion. From  Christ  crucified  turn  your  eyes  to 
Paul  crucified ;  you  have  read  of  him  dying  by  the 
sword  ;  hear  him  speak  of  dying  by  the  cross,  and 
see  his  moral,  spiritual,  living  crucifixion. 

Our  apostle  is  two  men,  Saul  and  Paul — the 

F 


fif>  ON    MORTIFICATION. 

old  man  and  the  new.  In  respect  of  the  old  man, 
he  is  crucified  and  dead  to  the  law  of  sin ;  so  as 
that  sin  is  dead  in  him ;  neither  is  it  otherwise 
with  every  regenerate.  Sin  hath  a  body,  as  well  as 
the  man  hath,  ('Who  shall  deliver  me  from  this 
body  of  death?")  a  body  that  hath  limbs  and 
parts  :  'Mortify  your  earthly  members,"  saith  our 
apostle.  Not  the  limbs  of  our  human  body,  which 
are  made  of  earth  ;  but  the  sinful  limbs,  that  are 
made  of  'corruption,  fornication,  uncleanness,  in- 
ordinate affection,'  &c.  The  head  of  sin  is  wicked 
devices  ;  the  heart  of  sin,  wicked  desires  ;  the  hands 
and  feet  of  sin,  wicked  executions;  the  tongue  of 
sin,  wicked  words ;  the  eyes  of  sin,  lustful  appre- 
hensions; the  forehead  of  sin,  impudent  profession 
of  evil ;  the  back  of  sin,  a  strong  supportation  and 
maintenance  of  evil :  all  this  body  of  sin  is  not  only 
put  to  death,  but  to  shame  too ;  so  as  it  is  dead 
with  disgrace:  'I  am  crucified.'  St.  Paul  speaks 
not  this  singularly  of  himself,  but  in  the  person  of 
the  renewed  :  sin  doth  not,  cannot,  live  a  vital  and 
vigorous  life  in  the  regenerate.  Wherefore,  then, 
say  you,  was  the  apostle's  complaint,  'Wretched 
man  that  I  am,  who  shall  deliver  me  from  this 
body  of  death  ?'3  Mark,  I  beseech  you,  it  was  the 
body  of  sin,  not  the  life  of  sin ;  a  body  of  death, 
not  the  life  of  that  body.  Or  if  this  body  had  yet 
some  life,  it  was  such  a  life  as  is  left  in  the  limbs 
when  the  head  is  struck  off;  some  dying  quiverings, 
rather  as  the  remainders  of  a  life  that  was,  than 
any  act  of  a  life  that  is.  Or,  if  a  further  life,  such 
a  one  as  in  swounds  and  fits  of  epilepsy,  which 
yields  breath,  but  not  sense ;  or  if  some  kind  of 

Rom.  vii.  24.  2  Colos.  iii,  5. 

3  TaXaiiruipoQ  iyu,  k   r   X. 


BY   BISHOP   HALL.  67 

sense,  yet  no  motion ;  or  if  it  have  some  kind  of 
motion  in  us,  yet  no  manner  of  dominion  over  us. 
What  power,  motion,  sense,  relics  of  life,  are  in  a 
fully  crucified  man  ?  Such  a  one  may  waft  op 
and  down  with  the  wind,  but  cannot  move  out  of 
any  internal  principle. 

Sin  and  grace  cannot  more  stand  together  in 
their  strength,  than  life  and  death.  In  remiss 
degrees  all  contraries  may  be  lodged  together  un- 
der one  roof.  St.  Paul  swears  that  he  dies  daily, 
yet  he  lives;  so  the  best  man  sins  hourly,  even 
whilst  he  obeys ;  but  the  powerful  and  overruling 
sway  of  sin  is  incompatible  with  the  truth  of  re- 
generation. Every  Esau  would  be  carrying  away 
a  blessing.  Ye  shall  have  strong  drinkers,  as 
Isaiah  calls  them.1  'Neighing  stallions  of  lust,'  as 
Jeremy  calls  them;2  mighty  hunters  in  oppres- 
sion, as  Nimrod ; 3  corrupt  talkers;4  which  yet  will 
be  challenging  as  deep  a  share  in  grace,  as  the  most 
conscionable.  Alas!  how  many  millions  do  mi- 
serably delude  themselves  with  a  mere  pretence  of 
Christianity,  aliter  vivunt,  aliter  loquuntur,5  as  was 
said  of  the  philosophers.  Vain  hypocrites!  they 
must  know  that  every  Christian  is  a  crucified  man. 
How  are  they  dead  to  their  sins,  that  walk  in  their 
sins  ?  How  are  their  sins  dead  in  them,  in  whom 
they  stir,  reign,  flourish?  Who  doth  not  smile  to 
hear  of  a  dead  man  that  walks  ?  Who  derides  not 
the  solecism  of  that  actor,  that  expressed  himself 
fully  dead  by  saying  so  ?  What  a  mockery  is  this  ! 
— eyes  full  of  lust,  itching  ears,  scurrilous  tongues, 

1  Isaiah,  v.  22.  2  Jeremiah,  v.  8.  3  Gen.  x.  9. 

*  Ephesians,  iv.  9. 
5  They  are  one  sort  of  people  in  their  lives,  another  in  their 
professions. 

F   2 


68  ON    MORTIFICATION. 

bloody  hands,  hearts  full  of  wickedness — and  yet 
dead  ?  Deceive  not  your  souls,  dear  Christians,  if 
ye  love  them :  this  false  death  is  the  way  to  the 
true,  eternal,  incomprehensibly  woeful  death  of 
body  and  soul.  If  ye  will  needs  do  so,  walk  on,  ye 
falsely  dead,  in  the  ways  of  your  old  sins ;  but  be 
sure,  these  paths  shall  lead  you  down  to  the  cham- 
bers of  everlasting  death.  Away  with  this  hateful 
simulation.  God  is  not  mocked ;  ye  must  either 
kill  or  die.  Kill  your  sins,  or  else  they  will  be  sure 
to  kill  your  souls;  apprehend,  arraign,  condemn 
them;  fasten  them  to  the  tree  of  shame;  and,  if 
they  be  not  dead  already,  break  their  legs  and 
arms,  disable  them  to  all  offensive  actions,  as  was 
done  to  the  thieves  in  the  gospel :  so  shall  you  say 
with  our  blessed  apostle,  '  I  am  crucified/ 

Neither  is  it  thus  only  in  matter  of  notorious 
crime  and  gross  wickedness ;  but  thus  it  must  be 
in  the  universal  carriage  of  our  lives,  and  the  whole 
habitual  frame  of  our  dispositions.  In  both  these, 
we  are,  we  must  be  crucified.  Be  not  deceived, 
my  brethren,  it  is  a  serious  and  severe  thing  to  be 
a  Christian.  This  work  is  not  frolicsome,  jovial, 
plausible :  there  is  a  certain  thing  called  true  mor- 
tification, required  to  this  business ;  and  whoever 
heard  but  there  was  pain  in  death  ?  but,  among  all 
deaths,  in  crucifying  ?  What  a  torture  must  there 
needs  be  in  this  act  of  violence  !  What  a  disten- 
tion of  the  body,  (whose  weight  is  rack  enough  to 
itself!)  What  straining  of  the  joints!  What 
nailing  of  hands  and  feet !  Never  make  account 
to  be  Christians  without  the  hard  tasks  of  peni- 
tence. It  will  cost  you  tears,  sighs,  watchings, 
self-restraints,  self-strugglings,  self-denials :  this 
word  is  not  more  harsh  than  true.     Ye  delicate 


BY   BISHOP    HALL.  69 

hypocrites,  what  do  you  talk  of  Christian  profes- 
sion, when  ye  will  not  abate  a  dish  from  your 
table,  nor  spare  an  hour's  sleep  from  your  eyes, 
nor  cast  off  an  offensive  rag  from  your  backs,  for 
your  God  ?  In  vain  shall  the  vassals  of  appe- 
tite challenge  to  be  the  servants  of  God.  Were 
it,  that  the  kingdom  of  God  did  consist  in  eating 
and  drinking,  in  pampering  and  surfeits,  in  cham- 
bering and  wantonness,  in  prancing  and  vanity,  in 
talk  and  ostentation,  O  God,  how  rich  shouldst 
thou  be  of  subjects,  of  saints !  But,  if  it  require 
abstinence,  humiliation,  contrition  of  heart,  subju- 
gation of  our  flesh,  renunciation  of  our  wills,  seri- 
ous impositions  of  laboursome  devotions,  O  Lord, 
what  is  become  of  true  Christianity?  Where  shall 
we  seek  for  a  crucified  man  ?  Look  to  our  tables, 
there  ye  shall  find  excess  and  riot :  look  to  our 
backs,  there  ye  shall  find  proud  disguises :  look  to 
our  conversations,  there  ye  shall  find  scurrilous 
and  obscene  jollity.  This  liberty,  yea,  this  licen- 
tiousness, is  that  which  opens  the  mouths  of  our  ad- 
versaries to  the  censure  of  our  real  impiety.  That 
slander  which  Julian  could  cast  upon  Constantine, 
that  rpv(f>ij  led  him  to  aaioria,  delicacy  to  intemper- 
ance, the  very  same  do  they  cast  upon  us:  they 
tell  us  of  their  strict  Lents,  frequent  fastings, 
canonical  hours,  sharp  penances;  of  their  bashful 
shrifts,  their  painful  scourgings,  their  solitary  cells, 
their  woolward  and  barefoot  walks,  their  hard  and 
tedious  pilgrimages;  whilst  we,  they  say,  deny 
nothing  to  back  or  belly,  fare  full,  lie  soft,  sit  warm, 
and  make  a  wanton  of  the  flesh,  while  we  profess  to 
tend  the  spirit.  Brethren,  hear  a  little  the  words  of 
exhortation :  the  brags  of  their  penal  will-worship 
shall  no  whit  move  us.    All  this  is  blown  away  with 


70  ON    MORTIFICATION. 

a  Quis  requisivit,  "Who  hath  required  it  ?>'  Baal's 
priests  did  more  than  they,  yet  were  never  the  holier. 
But  for  ourselves,  in  the  fear  of  God,  see  that  we  do 
not  justify  their  crimination  ;  while  they  are  in  one 
extreme,  placing  all  religion  in  the  outside,  in 
'  touch  not,  taste  not,  handle  not;'  let  us  not  be  in 
the  other,  not  regarding  the  external  acts  of  due 
humiliation.  It  is  true  that  it  is  more  easy  to 
afflict  the  body,  than  to  humble  the  soul.  A  dram 
of  remorse  is  more  than  an  ounce  of  pain.  O  God, 
if  whippings,  and  hair-cloths,  and  watchings, 
would  satisfy  thy  displeasure,  who  would  not 
sacrifice  the  blood  of  this  vassal,  his  body,  to  ex- 
piate the  sin  of  his  soul  ?  Who  would  not  scrub 
his  skin,  to  ease  his  conscience  ?  Who  would  not 
hold  his  eyes  open,  to  avoid  an  eternal  unrest  and 
torment  ?  But  such  sacrifices  and  oblations, O  God, 
thou  desirestnot :  •  The  sacrifice  of  God  is  a  broken 
spirit :  a  broken  and  a  contrite  heart,  O  God,  thou 
wilt  not  despise/  Yet  it  is  as  true,  that  it  is  more 
easy  to  counterfeit  mortification  of  spirit,  than  hu- 
miliation of  body  :  there  is  pain  in  the  one,  none  in 
the  other.  He  that  cares  not,  therefore,  to  pull 
down  his  body,  will  much  less  care  to  bumble  his 
soul ;  and  he  that  spares  not  to  act  meet  and  due 
penalties  upon  the  flesh,  gives  more  colour  of  the 
soul's  humiliation.  Dear  Christians,  it  is  not  for 
us  to  stand  upon  niggardly  terms  with  our  Maker , 
he  will  have  both  ;  he  that  made  both  will  have 
us  crucified  in  both.  The  old  man  doth  not  lie  in 
a  limb  or  faculty,  but  is  diffused  through  the  whole 
extent  of  body  and  soul,  and  must  be  crucified  in 
all  that  it  is ;  v7ru)Tru£to  saith  the  chosen  vessel,  '  I 
beat  down  my  body ; '  my  body  as  well  as  my 
spirit.     Lent  is  wont  to  be  a  penitential  time :  if 


BY    BISHOP    HALL.  71 

ye  have  soundly  and  effectually  shriven  yourselves 
to  your  God,  let  me  enjoin  you  a  wholesome  and 
saving  penance  for  the  whole  year,  for  your  whole 
life.     Ye  must  curb  your  appetites,  ye  must  fast, 
ye  must  stint  yourselves  to  your  painful  devotions  ; 
ye  must   give   peremptory  denials   to   your   own 
wills ;  ye  must  put  your  knife  to  your  throat  in 
Solomon's  sense.    O  remember  the  quarrel  against 
damned  Dives  :  he  fared  sumptuously  every  day  ; 
he  made  neither  Lents  nor   embers;  aUv  lopr^, 
as  he  said,  every  day  was  gaudy  and  festival,  in 
rich    suits,  in   dainty  morsels,  and  full  draughts, 
intus  mulso,  forts   oho,  "  wine    within,   oil  with- 
out;" now  all  the  world  for  a  drop,  and  it  is  too 
little.     'Woe   unto   you   that   are    full,'  saith  our 
Saviour;  but  even  nature  itself  could  abominate, 
bis  de  die saturum,  "one  that  is  full  twice  a  day." 
One  of  the  sins  of  our  Sodom  is  fullness  of  bread. 
What  is  the  remedy  ?     It   is  an  old  word,  "  that 
hunger  cures  ^the  diseases  of  gluttony."      O  that 
my  words  could  prevail  so   far  with  you,  beloved 
Christians,  as  to  bring  austere  abstinence  and  sober 
moderation  into  fashion.     The  court  and  city  have 
led   the  way  to  excess ;  your  example  shall  pre- 
scribe, yea,  administer  the  remedy.     The  heathen 
man  could  say,  "  He  is  not  worthy  of  the  name  of  a 
man  that  would  be  a  whole   day  in    pleasure;"1 
— what,  and  we  always  ?     •  In  fasting  often,'  saith 
St.  Paul ;  what,  and  we  never  ?     '  I  fast  twice  a 
week,'  saith  the  Pharisee;  and  we  Christians,  when? 
I  speak  not  of  Popish  mock-fasts,  in  change,  not  in 
forbearance ;  in  change  of  coarser  cates  of  the  land, 
for  the  curious  dainties  of  the  water ;  of  the  flesh 

!  Cic.  de  fin. 


72  ON    MORTIFICATION. 

of  beasts,  for  the  flesh  of  fish  ;  of  untoothsome 
morsels  for  sorbiiiuncula  delicate,  as  Jerome  calls 
them  :  let  me  never  feast,  if  this  be  fasting.  I  speak 
of  a  true,  and  serious  maceration  of  our  bodies,  by 
an  absolute  refraining  from  sustenance ;  which 
howsoever  in  itself  it  be  not  an  act  pleasing  unto 
God,  (for  well  may  I  invert  St.  Paul,  'neither  if 
we  eat  not,  are  we  the  better ;  neither  if  we  eat,  are 
we  the  worse  ;M)  yet  in  the  effect  it  is.  The  plough 
bears  no  corn,  but  it  makes  way  for  it;  it  opens 
the  soil,  it  tears  up  the  briers,  and  turns  up  the 
furrows.  Thus  doth  holy  abstinence  :  it  chastises 
the  flesh,  it  lightens  the  spirit,  it  disheartens  our 
vicious  dispositions,  it  quickens  our  devotion.  O 
then,  as  we  care  to  avert  the  heavy  judgments  of  God 
from  ourselves,  as  we  desire  to  hand  down  the  gospel 
with  peace  to  our  posterity,  let  each  man  humble 
himself;  let  each  man  rend  his  heart,  with  sorrow 
for  his  sins ;  let  every  man  ransack  his  own  soul 
and  life,  and  offer  an  holy  violence  to  all  those 
sinful  corruptions  which  have  stirred  up  the  God 
of  heaven  against  us  ;  and  never  leave  till  in  truth 
of  heart  he  can  say,  with  our  blessed  apostle, '  I  am 
crucified.' 

Ye  have  seen  Christ  crucified,  St.  Paul  cruci- 
fied ;  see  now  both  crucified  together  :  '  I  am  cruci- 
fied with  Christ.'  It  is  but  a  cold  word  this,  '  I 
am  crucified  ;'  it  is  the  company  that  quickens  it : 
He  that  is  the  life,  gives  it  life,  and  makes  both  the 
word  and  act  glorious :'Iam  crucified  with  Christ.' 

Alas!  there  is  many  a  one  crucified,  but  not 
with  Christ.  The  covetous,  the  ambitious  man,  is 
self-crucified  ;  he  plats  a  crown  of  thorny  cares  for 

1  1  Cor.  viii.  8. 


BY  BISHOP   HALL.  73 

his  own  head ;  he  pierces  his  hands  and  feet  with 
toilsome,  and  painful  undertakings ;  he  drencheth 
himself  with  the  vinegar  and  gall  of  discontent- 
ments ;  he  gores  his  side,  and  wounds  his  heart 
with  inward  vexations :  thus  the  man  is  crucified ; 
but  with  the  world,  not  with  Christ.  The  envious 
man  is  crucified  by  his  own  thoughts ;  he  needs  no 
other  gibbet  than  another  man's  prosperity;  be- 
cause another's  person  or  counsel  is  preferred  to  his, 
he  rushes  upon  his  own  destruction.  This  man  is 
crucified,  but  it  is  Achitophel's  cross,  not  Christ's. 

The  desperate  man  is  crucified  with  his  own 
distrust;  he  pierceth  his  own  heart  with  a  deep, 
irremediable,  unmitigable,  killing  sorrow  ;  he  pays 
his  wrong  to  God's  justice  with  a  greater  wrong  to 
his  mercy,  and  leaps  out  of  an  inward  hell  of  re- 
morse to  the  bottomless  pit  of  damnation.  This 
man  is  crucified ;  but  this  is  Judas's  cross,  not 
Christ's. 

The  superstitious  man  is  professedly  mortified. 
The  answer  of  that  hermit  in  the  story  is  famous. 
"  Why  dost  thou  destroy  thy  body  ?"  "  Because  it 
would  destroy  me."  He  useth  his  body,  therefore, 
not  as  a  servant,  but  a  slave ;  not  as  a  slave,  but 
an  enemy  :  he  lies  upon  thorns,  with  the  Pharisee ; 
little-ease  is  his  lodging,  with  Simeon  the  Ancho- 
rite ;  the  stone  is  his  pillow,  with  Jacob;  tears 
his  food,  with  exiled  David  ;  he  lanceth  his  flesh 
with  the  Baalites  ;  he  digs  his  grave  with  his  nails  ; 
his  meals  are  hunger,  his  breathings  sighs,  his  linen 
hair-cloth,  lined  and  laced  with  cords  and  wires ; 
lastly,  he  is  his  own  willing  tormentor,  and  hopes 
to  merit  heaven  by  self-murder.  This  man  is  cru- 
cified, but  not  with  Christ. 


74  ON    MORTIFICATION. 

The  felon,  the  traitor,  is  justly  crucified ;  the 
vengeance  of  the  law  will  not  let  him  live.     The 
Jesuitical  incendiary,  that  cares.only  to  warm  him- 
self by  the  fires  of  states  and  kingdoms,  cries  out 
of  his  sufferings : — the  world  is  too  little  for  the 
noise  of  our  cruelty,  and   their  patience,  whilst  it 
judgeth  of  our  proceedings  by  our  laws,  not  by 
our  executions.     But  if  they  did  surfer  what  they 
falsely  pretend,  they  might  be   crucified,  but  not 
with  Christ;  they  should   bleed  for  sedition,  not 
conscience.     They  may  steal  the  name  of  Jesus, 
they  shall  not  have  his  society  :  this  is  not  Christ's 
cross,  it  is  the  cross  of  Barabbas,  or  the  two  male- 
factors {tQv  (TVTao-iaTwr1).     All  these,  and  many 
more,  are  crucified,  but  not,  as  St.  Paul  was  here, 
'  with  Christ.'  ,  How  must  we  be  crucified  with 
Christ  ?  in  partnership,  in  person :  in  partnership 
of  the  suffering — every  particularity  of  Christ's  cru- 
cifixion is  reacted  in  us.     Christ  is  the  model,  we 
the  metal :  the  metal  takes  such  form  as  the  model 
gives  it;  so  are  we  spread  upon  the  cross  of  Christ, 
in    an   answerable   extension  of  all   parts,  to  die 
with  him,  as  the  prophet  was  upon  the  dead  child, to 
revive  him.     Superstitious  men  talk  of  the  impres- 
sion of  our   Saviour's   wounds  in  their  idol,  St. 
Francis.      This  is  nothing  new ;    St.    Paul,   and 
every  believing  Christian  hath  both  the  lashes,  and 
wounds,   and    transfixions   of  his   Jesus   wrought 
upon  him.     The  crown  of  thorns  pierces  his  head, 
when  his  sinful  conceits  are  mortified  ;  his  lips  are 
drenched  with  gall  and  vinegar,  when  sharp  and 
severe  restraints  are  given  to  his  tongue ;  his  hand? 

1  Mark  xv.  7 


BY    BISHOP    HALL.  75 

and  feet  are  nailed,  when  he  is  by  the  power  of 
God's  Spirit  disabled  to  the  wonted  courses  of  sin  ; 
his  body  is  stripped,  when  all  colour  and  pretences 
are  taken  away  from  him ;  shortly,  his  heart  is 
pierced,  when  the  life-blood  of  his  formerly  reign- 
ing corruptions  are  let  out.  He  is  no  true  Chris- 
tian that  is  not  thus  crucified  with  Christ. 

Woe  is  me !  how  many  fashionable  ones  are  not 
so  much  as  pained  with  their  sins  :  it  is  no  trouble 
to  them  to  blaspheme,  oppress,  debauch.  Yea, 
rather  it  is  a  death  to  them  to  think  of  parting 
with  their  dear  corruptions.  The  world  hath  be- 
witched their  love.  That  which  Erasmus  saith  of 
Paris,  that  after  a  man  hath  acquainted  himself 
with  the  odious  scent  of  it,  hospitibus  magis  ac 
magis  adlubescit,  'it  grows  into  his  liking  more 
and  more,'  is  too  true  of  the  world,  and  sensual 
minds :  alas  !  they  rather  crucify  Christ  again,  than 
are  crucified  with  Christ.  Woe  to  them  that  ever 
they  were ;  for  being  not  dead  with  Christ,  they 
are  not  dead  in  Christ ;  and  being  not  dead  in 
Christ,  they  cannot  but  die  eternally  in  themselves; 
'  For  the  wages  of  sin  is  death  : '  death  in  their 
person,  if  not  in  their  surety.  Beloved,  let  us  not 
think  it  safe  for  us  to  rest  in  this  miserable  and 
deadly  condition.  As  ye  love  your  souls,  give  no 
sleep  to  your  eyes,  nor  peace  to  your  hearts,  till  ye 
find  the  sensible  effects  of  the  death  and  passion 
of  Christ  your  Saviour  within  you,  mortifying  all 
your  corrupt  affections,  and  sinful  actions,  that  ye 
may  truly  say  with  St.  Paul,  •  I  am  crucified  with 
Christ' 

Six  several  times  do  we  find  that  Christ  shed 
blood  :  in  his  circumcision — in  his  agony — in  his 
crowning — in  his  scourging — in  his  affixion — in  his 


76  ON    MORTIFICATION. 

transfixion.  The  instrument  of  the  first  was  the 
knife;  of  the  second,  vehemence  of  passion  ;  of  the 
third,  the  thorns ;  of  the  fourth,  the  whips  ;  of  the 
fifth,  the  nails;  of  the  last,  the  spear.  In  all  these 
we  are,  we  must  be,  partners  with  our  Saviour. 

In  his  circumcision,  when  we  draw  blood  of  our- 
selves by  cutting  off  the  foreskin  of  our  filthy  (if 
pleasing)  corruptions.1 

Tn  his  agony,  when  we  are  deeply  affected  with 
the  sense  of  God's  displeasure  for  sin,  and  terrified 
with  the  frowns  of  an  angry  Father. 

In  his  crowning  with  thorns,  when  we  smart 
and  bleed  with  reproaches  for  the  name  of  Christ ; 
when  that  which  the  world  counts  honour  is  pain 
to  us,  for  his  sake ;  when  our  guilty  thoughts 
punish  us,  and  wound  our  restless  heads,  with  the 
sad  remembrance  of  our  sins. 

In  his  scourging,  when  we  tame  our  wanton  and 
rebellious  flesh,  with  wise  rigour  and  holy  severity. 

In  his  affixion,  when  all  the  powers  of  our  souls 
and  parts  of  our  body  are  strictly  hampered,  and 
unremovably  fastened  upon  the  royal  command- 
ments of  our  Maker  and  Redeemer. 

In  his  transfixion,  when  our  hearts  are  wounded 
with  divine  love,  (with  the  spouse  in  the  Canticles,) 
or  our  consciences  with  deep  sorrow. 

In  all  these  we  bleed  with  Christ,  and  all  these 
(save  the  first  only)  belong  to  his  crucifying. 
Surely,  as  it  was  in  the  old  law,  xwP*£  alfiarEicxy- 
olag,  without  blood  shed  there  was  no  remission  ;s 
so  it  is  still,  and  ever,  in  the  new.  If  Christ  had 
not  thus  bled  for  us,  there  had  been  no  remission ; 
if  we  do  not  thus  bleed  with  Christ,  there  is  for  us 
no  remission. 

Col.  ii.  11.  *  Heb.  ix.  22. 


BY    BISHOP   HALL.  77 

There  is  no  benefit,  where  is  no  partnership. 
If  Christ  therefore  bled  with  his  agony,  with  his 
thorns,  with  his  whips,  with  his  nails,  with  his 
spear,  in  so  many  thousand  passages,  as  tradition 
is  bold  to  define ;  and  we  never  bleed,  either  with 
the  agony  of  our  sorrow  for  sin,  or  the  thorns  of 
holy  cares  for  displeasure,  or  the  scourges  of  severe 
Christian  rigour,  or  the  nails  of  holy  constraint,  or 
the  spear  of  deep  remorse,  how  do  we,  how  can 
we  for  shame,  say,  we  are  '  crucified  with  Christ  ? ' 

St.  Austin,  in  his  epistle,  or  book  rather,  to 
Honoratus,  gives  us  all  the  dimensions  of  the  cross 
of  Christ.1  The  latitude  he  makes  in  the  trans- 
verse ;  this  (saith  he)  pertains  to  good  works,  be- 
cause on  this  his  hands  were  stretched.  The 
length  was  from  the  ground  to  the  transverse,  this 
is  attributed  to  his  longanimity,  and  persistance ; 
for  on  that  his  body  was  stayed,  and  fixed.  The 
height  was  in  the  head  of  the  cross,  above  the 
transverse;  signifying  the  expectation  of  supernal 
things.  The  depth  of  it  was  in  that  part,  which 
was  pitched  below  within  the  earth,  importing  the 
profoundness  of  his  free  grace,  which  is  the  ground 
of  all  his  beneficence.  In  all  these  must  we 
have  our  part  with  Christ:  in  the  transverse  of 
his  cross,  by  the  ready  extension  of  our  hands 
to  all  good  works  of  piety,  justice,  charity.  In 
the  arrectary,  or  beam  of  his  cross,  by  conti- 
nuance, and  uninterupted  perseverance  in  good. 
In  the  head  of  his  cross,  by  a  high  elevated  hope, 
and  looking  for  of  glory.  In  the  foot  of  his  cross, 
by  a  lively  and  firm  faith,  fastening  our  souls  upon 
the  affiance  of  his   free  grace  and  mercy.     And 

1  Epist  129,  ad  Honoratum. 


78  ON    MORTIFICATION. 

thus  shall  we  be  crucified  with  Christ,  upon  his 
own  cross. 

Yet,  lastly,  we  must  go  further  than  this,  from 
his  cross  to  his  person. 

So  did  St.  Paul,  and  every  believer,  die  with 
Christ,  that  he  died  in  Christ;  for,  as  in  the  first 
Adam  we  all  Jived,  and  sinned;  so  in  the  second, 
all  believers  died,  that  they  might  live. 

The  first  Adam  brought  in  deatfi  to  all  mankind; 
but,  at  last,  actually  died  for-  none  but  himself. 
The  second  Adam  died  for  mankind,  and  brought 
life  to  all  believers.  Seest  thou  thy  Saviour,  therer 
fore,  hanging  upon  the  cross  ?  all  mankind  hangs 
there  with  him,  as  a  knight  or  burgess  of  parlia- 
ment voices  his  whole  borough,  or  country.  What 
speak  I  of  this?  The  members  take  the  same 
lot  with  the  head.  Every  believer  is  a  limb  of 
that  body ;  how  can  he,  therefore,  but  die  with  him, 
and  in  him  ?  That  real  union,  then,  which  is  be- 
twixt Christ  and  us,  makes  the  cross  and  passion 
of  Christ  ours  ;  so  as  the  thorns  pierced  our  heads, 
the  scourges  blooded  our  backs,  the  nails  wounded 
our  hands  and  feet,  and  the  spear  gored  our  sides 
and  hearts ;  by  virtue  whereof,  we  receive  justifi- 
cation from  our  sins,  and  true  mortification  of  our 
corruptions.  Every  believer,  therefore,  is  dead 
already  for  his  sins,  in  his  Saviour;  he  needs  not 
fear  that  he  shall  die  again.  God  is  too  just  to 
punish  twice  for  one  fault;  to  recover  the  sum 
both  of  the  surety  and  principal.  All  the  score  oi 
our  arearages  is  fully  struck  off,  by  the  infinite  satis- 
faction of  our  blessed  Redeemer.  Comfort  thyself, 
therefore,  thou  penitent  and  faithful  soul,  in  the 
confidence  of  thy  safety.  Thou  shalt  not  die,  but 
live,    since  thou   art   already   crucified    with    thy 


BY   BISHOP   HALL.  79 

Saviour.  He  died  for  thee,  thou  diedst  in  him. 
'  Who  shall  lay  any  thing  to  the  charge  of  God's 
elect  ?  It  is  God  that  justifies  !  Who  shall  con- 
demn ?  It  is  Christ  that  died  ;  yea,  rather,  that  is 
risen  again,  and  lives  gloriously  at  the  right  hand 
of  God;  making  intercession  for  us.'  To  thee, 
O  blessed  Jesu,  together  with  thy  coeternal  Father, 
and  Holy  Spirit,  three  persons  in  one  infinite,  and 
incomprehensible  Deity,  be  all  praise,  honour,  and 
glory,  now  and  for  ever. — Amen. 


SERMON  V. 

OF  CONFESSION,  AND  SORROW 
FOR  SIN. 

BY  ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON. 


[John  Tillotson  was  born  in  1630.    He  was  elevated  to  the  Archiepiscoptl  i 
of  Canterbury  in  1691 ;  and  died,  1694.] 


SERMON    V. 


Psalm  xxxviii.  18. 

/  will  declare  mine  iniquity,  and  be  sorry  for  my  sin. 

In  this  Psalm  David  does  earnestly  beg  mercy  and 
forgiveness  of  God,  and  in  order  to  the  obtaining 
of  it,  he  declares  both  his  sins  and  his  repentance 
for  them,  in  these  words,  which  contain  in  them 
two  of  the  necessary  ingredients,  or  at  least  con- 
comitants of  a  true  repentance,  viz.  confession  of 
sin,  and  sorrow  for  it. 

I  shall  speak  something  of  the  first  of  these,  viz. 
confession  of  sin  :  but  the  second,  viz.  sorrow  for 
sin,  shall  be  the  main  subject  of  my  discourse. 

I.  Confession  of  sin  :  '  T  will  declare  mine  ini- 
quity,' or,  as  it  is  in  the  old  translation,  '  I  will 
confess  my  wickedness.'  Of  which  I  shall  speak 
under  these  three  heads: — 

I.  What  confession  of  sin  is. 

II.  How  far  it  is  necessary. 

III.  What  are  the  reasons  and  grounds  of  this 
necessity. 

I.  What  confession  of  sin  is.  It  is  a  declaration 
or  acknowledgment  of  some  moral  evil  or  fault  to 
another,  which  we  are  conscious  to  ourselves  we 


84   OF  CONFESSION,  AND  SORROW  FOR  SIN. 

have  been  guilty  of.  And  this  acknowledgment 
may  be  made  by  us,  either  to  God  or  man.  The 
Scripture  mentions  both.  Confession  of  our  sins 
to  God  is  very  frequently  mentioned  in  Scripture, 
as  the  first  and  necessary  part  of  repentance ;  and 
sometimes,  and  in  some  cases,  confession  to  men  is 
not  only  recommended,  but  enjoined. 

II.  How  far  confession  of  our  sins  is  necessary. 
That  it  is  necessary  to  confess  our  sins  to  God,  the 
Scripture  plainly  declares,  and  is  I  think  a  matter 
out  of  all  dispute.  For  it  is  a  necessary  part  of  re- 
pentance, that  we  should  confess  our  sins  to  God, 
with  a  due  sense  of  the  evil  of  them ;  and  there- 
fore the  Scripture  maketh  this  a  necessary  qualifi- 
cation, and  condition  of  pardon  and  forgiveness. 
1  Whoso  confesseth  and  forsaketh  his  sins,  shall 
have  mercy.' '  '  If  we  confess  our  sins,  he  is  faith- 
ful and  just  to  forgive  us  our  sins,  and  to  cleanse 
us  from  all  unrighteousness;'8  implying  that  if 
we  do  not  confess  our  sins  to  God,  the  guilt  of 
them  will  still  remain;  to  God  I  say,  for  of  con- 
fession to  him  St.  John  plainly  speaks,  when  he 
says,  ■  He  is  faithful  and  just.'  Who  ?  God,  surely ; 
who  though  he  be  not  named  before,  yet  is  neces- 
sarily understood  in  the  words  before :  ■  If  we  con- 
fess our  sins,'  i.  e.  to  God,  '  he  is  faithful  and 
just.' 

A  general  confession  of  our  sins  is  absolutely 
necessary ;  and  in  some  cases  a  particular  acknow- 
ledgment of  them,  and  repentance  for  them,  espe- 
cially if  the  sins  have  been  great  and  deliberate 
and  presumptuous ;  in  this  case  a  particular  con- 
fession of  them,  and  repentance  for  them,  is  neces- 

1  Prov.  xxviii.  13.  a  1  John,  i.  9. 


BY    ARCHBISHOP    TILLOTSON.  80 

sary,  so  far  as  we  can  particularly  recollect  them, 
and  call  them  to  remembrance :  whereas  for  sins  of 
ignorance  and  infirmity,  of  surprise  and  daily  in- 
cursion, for  lesser  omissions,  and  the  defects  and 
imperfections  of  our  best  actions  and  services,  we 
have  all  the  reason  that  can  be  to  believe,  that  God 
will  accept  of  a  general  confession  of  them,  and  re- 
pentance for  them.  And  if  any  man  ask  me, 
where  I  find  this  distinction  in  Scripture,  between 
a  general  and  particular  repentance ;  I  answer,  that 
it  is  not  necessary  it  should  be  any  where  expressed 
in  Scripture,  being  so  clearly  founded  in  the  nature 
and  reason  of  the  thing ;  because  in  many  cases  it  is 
not  possible  that  we  should  have  a  particular  know- 
ledge and  remembrance  of  all  our  particular  sins ; 
as  is  plain  in  sins  of  ignorance,  since  our  very  call- 
ing them  by  that  name,  does  necessarily  suppose 
that  we  do  not  know  them.  It  is  impossible  we 
should  remember  those  sins  afterwards,  which  we 
did  not  know  when  they  were  committed :  and 
therefore  either  a  general  repentance  for  these  and 
the  other  sins  I  mentioned  of  the  like  nature,  must 
be  sufficient,  in  order  to  the  pardon  of  them  ;  or  we 
must  say,  that  they  are  unpardonable,  which  would 
be  very  unreasonable,  because  this  would  be  to 
make  lesser  sins  more  unpardonable  than  those 
which  are  far  greater. 

And  yet,  though  this  difference  between  a  gene- 
ral and  particular  repentance  be  no  where  ex- 
pressly mentioned  in  Scripture,  there  does  not 
want  foundation  for  it  there.  •  Who  can  under- 
stand his  errors  ?  Cleanse  thou  me  from  secret 
sins;'1  (i.e.)  such  as  we  do  not  discern  and  take 
notice  of,  when  they  are  committed.     And  yet  Da 

1  Psalm  xix.  12. 


86   OF  CONFESSION,  AND  SORROW  FOR  SIN. 

vid  supposeth,  that  upon  a  general  acknowledg- 
ment of  them,  and  repentance  for  them,  we  may 
be  cleansed  from  them,  though  we  cannot  make  a 
particular  acknowledgment  of  them,  and  exercise 
a  particnlar  repentance  for  them,  because  they  are 
secret,  and  we  do  not  particularly  understand  what 
they  are. 

As  for  our  confessing  our  sins  to  men,  both  Scrip- 
ture and  reason  do  in  some  cases  recommend  and 
enjoin  it.     As, 

1.  In  order  to  the  obtaining  of  the  prayers  of 
good  men  for  us.  *  Confess  your  sins  one  to  ano- 
ther;' he  said  before,  'the  prayer  of  faith  shall 
save  the  sick,  and  the  Lord  shall  raise  him  up.'1 
This  in  all  probability  is  meant  of  the  miraculous 
power  of  prayer,  which  St.  Chrysostom  reckons 
among  the  miraculous  gifts  of  the  Spirit,  bestowed 
upon  Christians  in  the  first  ages  o£  the  church. 
And  this  is  very  much  countenanced  and  confirmed 
by  what  presently  follows  after  this  command  ol 

confessing  our  sins  one  to  another,  and  prating 
one  for  another/  and  given  as  the  reason  of  it ;  '  for 
the  effectual  fervent  prayer  of  a  righteous  man 
availeth  much.'  The  original  is  hirjaig  kvepys^iivri, 
'  the  inspired  prayer,'  which  in  the  verse  before  is* 
called  •  the  prayer  of  faith,'  meaning  that  miracu- 
lous faith,  in  the  power  whereof  Christians  did  ob- 
tain of  God  whatever  they  were  inspired  to  ask  of 
him ;  according  to  our  Saviour's  promise  in  the 
gospel,  concerning  the  efficacy  of  the  prayers  of 
Christians,  which  we  find  mentioned  among  the 
other  miraculous  powers,  which  were  to  be  conferred 
upon  them  by  the  coming  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 

2.  Confession   of  our   sins  to   men   is  likewise 

1  James,  v.  16. 


BY    ARCHBISHOP    TILLOTSON.  87 

reasonable,  in  order  to  the  ease  and  satisfaction  ot 
our  minds,  and  our  being  directed  in  our  duty  ior 
the  future.  In  this  case  common  reason  and  pru- 
dence, without  any  precept  of  Scripture,  will  di- 
rect men  to  have  recourse  to  this  remedy,  viz.  to 
discover  and  lay  open  our  disease  to  some  skilful 
spiritual  physician,  to  some  faithful  friend  or  pru- 
dent guide,  in  order  to  spiritual  advice  and  direc- 
tion, for  the  peace  and  satisfaction  of  our  minds. 
And  then, 

3.  In  case  our  sins  have  been  public  and  scan- 
dalous, both  reason  and  the  practice  of  the  Chris- 
tian church  do  require,  that  when  men  have  pub- 
licly offended,  they  should  give  public  satisfaction, 
and  open  testimony  of  their  repentance. 

But  as  for  private  and  auricular  confession  of 
our  sins  to  a  priest  in  all  cases,  and  as  of  absolute 
necessity  to  our  obtaining  pardon  and  forgiveness 
from  God,  as  the  church  of  Rome  teacheth,  this  is 
neither  necessary  by  divine  precept,  nor  by  any 
constitution  and  practice  of  the  ancient  Christian 
church. 

Not  to  mention  the  bad  consequences  of  this 
practice,  and  the  impious  and  dangerous  use  which 
hath  been  made  of  this  seal  of  confession,  for  the 
concealing  and  carrying  on  of  the  most  wicked 
and  barbarous  designs ;  and  the  debauching  of  the 
penitents,  by  drawing  them  into  the  commission  of 
the  same  and  greater  sins,  than  those  which  they 
confessed ;  which  the  more  devout  persons  of  that 
church  have  frequently  complained  of. 

I  proceed  now  to  show  briefly,  in  the  third  place, 
the  grounds  and  reasons  of  the  necessity  of  con- 
fessing our  sins  to  God;  and  I  shall  but  just 
mention  them. 


88        OF   CONFESSION,    AND    SORROW    FOR    SIN. 

1 .  From  the  precept  and  command  of  God ;  for 
which  I  have  already  produced  clear  proof  of 
Scripture. 

2.  From  the  nature  of  the  thing,;  because,  with- 
out this,  there  can  be  no  repentance  towards  God. 
He  that  will  not  so  much  as  own  the  faults  which 
he  hath  been  guilty  of,  can  never  repent  of  them. 
If  we  will  not  confess  our  sins  to  God,  we  are  never 
like  to  be  sorry  for  them.  Thus  much  for  the  first 
thing  in  the  text,  the  confession  of  our  sins. 

I  proceed  now  to  the  second  ingredient  of  re- 
pentance mentioned  in  the  text,  which  is  sorrow 
for  sin  :  '  I  will  declare  mine  iniquity,  and  be  sorry 
for  my  sin.'  In  the  handling  of  this  argument,  I 
shall, 

I.  Consider  the  nature  of  this  passion  of  sorrow. 

II.  The  reason  and  grounds  of  our  sorrow  for 
sin. 

III.  The  measure  and  degrees  of  it. 

IV.  How  far  the  outward  expression  of  our  in- 
ward grief  by  tears  is  necessary  to  a  true  repent- 
ance. " 

I.  For  the  nature  of  this  passion.  Sorrow  is  a 
trouble  or  disturbance  of  mind,  occasioned  by  some- 
thing that  is  evil,  done  or  suffered  by  us,  or  which 
we  are  in  danger  of  suffering,  that  tends  greatly  to 
our  damage  or  mischief.  So  that  to  be  sorry  for  a 
thing,  is  nothing  else  but  to  be  sensibly  affected 
with  the  consideration  of  the  evil  of  it,  and  of  the 
mischief  and  inconvenience  which  is  like  to  re- 
dound to  us  from  it :  which,  if  it  be  a  moral  evil, 
such  as  sin  is,  to  be  sorry  for  it,  is  to  be  troubled 
that  we  have  done  it,  and  to  wish  with  all  our 
hearts  that  we  had  been  wiser,  and  had  done  other- 
wise; and  if  this  sorrow  be  true.and  real,  if  it  abide 


BY    ARCHBISHOP    TILLOTSON.  89 

and  stay  upon  us,  it  will  produce  a  firm  purpose 
and  resolution  in  us,  not  to  do  the  like  for  the 
future. 

It  is  true  indeed,  that  we  are  said  to  be  sorry  for 
the  death  and  loss  of  friends ;  but  this  is  rather  the 
effect  of  natural  affection  than  of  our  reason,  which 
always  endeavours  to  check  and  moderate  our  grief 
for  that  which  we  cannot  help,  and  labours  by  all 
means  to  turn  our  sorrow  into  patience;  and  we 
are  said  likewise  to  grieve  for  the  miseries  and  suf- 
ferings of  others ;  but  this  is  not  so  properly  sorrow 
as  pity  and  compassion.  Sorrow  rather  respects 
ourselves,  and  our  own  doings  and  sufferings. 

TI.  I  proceed  in  the  second  place'to  inquire  into 
the  reasons  and  grounds  of  our  sorrow  for  sin ; 
and  they,  as  I  have  already  hinted,  are  these 
two,  the  intrinsical,  or  the  consequent  evil  of 
sin ;  either  the  evil  of  sin  in  itself,  or  the  mis- 
chiefs or  inconveniences  which  it  will  bring  upon 
us.  For  every  one  that  is  sorry  for  any  fault  he 
is  guilty  of,  is  so  upon  one  of  these  two  accounts; 
either  upon  the  score  of  ingenuousness  or  of  in- 
terest; either  because  he  hath  done  a  thing  which 
is  unworthy  in  itself,  or  because  he  hath  done 
something  which  may  prove  prejudicial  to  himself; 
either  out  of  a  principle  of  love  and  gratitude  to 
God,  or  from  a  principle  of  self-love.  And  though 
the  former  of  these  be  the  better,  the  more  generous 
principle  of  sorrow ;  yet  the  latter  is  usually  the 
first ;  because  it  is  the  more  sensible,  and  toucheth 
us  more  nearly :  for  sin  is  a  base  and  ill-natured 
thing,  and  renders  a  man  not  so  apt  to, be  affected 
with  the  injuries  he  hath*offered  to  God,  as  with  the 
mischief  which  is  likely  to  fall  upon  himself.  And 
therefore,  I  will  begin  with  the  latter,  because  it  is 


90        OF    CONFESSION,    AND    SORROW   FOR    SIN. 

usually  the  more  sensible  cause  of  our  trouble  and 
sorrow  for  sin. 

1.  The  great  mischief  and  inconvenience  that  sin 
is  like  to  bring  upon  us.  When  a  man  is  thoroughly 
convinced  of  the  danger  into  which  his  sins  have 
brought  him  ;  that  they  have  made  him  a  child  of 
wrath,  and  a  son  of  perdition,  that  he  is  thereby 
fallen  under  the  heavy  displeasure  of  Almighty 
God,  and  liable  to  all  those  dreadful  curses  which 
are  .written  in  his  book,  that  ruin  and  destruction 
hang  over  him,  and  that  nothing  keeps  him  from 
eternal  and  intolerable  torments,  but  the  patience 
and  long-suffering  of  God,  which  he  does  not  know 
how  soon  it  may  cease  to  interpose  between  him 
and  the  wrath  of  God>and  let  him  fall  into  that 
endless  and" insupportable  misery,  which  is  the  just 
portion  and  desert  of  his  sins  ; — he  that  lays  to  heart 
the  sad  estate  and  condition  into  which  he  hath 
brought  himself  by  sin,  and  the  mischiefs  which 
attend  him  every  moment  of  his  continuance  in 
that  state,  and  how  near  they  are  to  him,  and  that 
there  is  but  a  step  between  him  and  death,  and 
hardly  another  between  that  and  hell ; — he  cannot 
surely,  but  be  very  sorry  for  what  he  hath  done, 
and  be  highly  displeased  and  offended  with  himself, 
that  he  should  be  the  author  of  his  own  ruin,  and 
have  contributed  as  much  as  in  him  lies  to  his  ever- 
lasting undoing. 

2.  Another  and  better  principle  of  sorrow  for  sin 
is  ingenuousness  ;  because  we  are  sensible  that  we 
have  carried  ourselves  very  unworthily  towards  God, 
and  have  been  injurious  to  him  who  hath  laid  all 
possible  obligations  upon  us.  For  he  hath  made 
us,  and  hath  given  us  our  beings,  and  hath  charged 
his  watchful  providence  with  the  continual  care  of 


BY    ARCHBISHOP   TILLOTSON.  91 

us;  his  bounty  hath  ministered  to  the  necessities 
and  comforts  of  our  life  ;  all  the  blessings  that  we 
enjoy  are  the  effects  of  his  mere  love  and  goodness, 
without  any  hope  of  requital,  or  expectation  of  any 
other  return  from  us,  than  of  love,  of  gratitude, 
and  obedience ;  which  yet  are  of  no  advantage  to' 
him,  but  very  beneficial  and  comfortable  to  our- 
selves :  for  he  does  not  expect  duty  and  obedience 
from  us,  with  any  regard  of  benefit  to  himself,  but 
for  our  sakes,  and  in  order  to  our  own  happiness. 

Nay,  his  kindness  did  not  stop  here,  but  after  we 
had  abused  him  by  our  repeated  provocations,  yet 
he  still  continued  his  care  of  us ;  and  when  we 
had  further  provoked  him  to  withdraw  his  love, 
and  to  call  in  his  abused  goodness,  and  had  done 
what  lay  in  us  to  make  ourselves  miserable,  he 
would  not  suffer  us  to  be  undone,  but  found  out  a 
ransom  for  us,  and  hath  contrived  a  way  for  the 
pardon  of  all  our  offences,  and  to  reconcile  us  to 
himself,  and  to  restore  us  to  happiness,  by  the  most 
stupendous  and  amazing  condescension  of  love  and 
goodness  that  ever  was,  even  by  giving  his  only 
Son  to  die  for  us. 

And  can  we  reflect  upon  all  this,  and  not  be 
sorry  and  grieved  at  our  very  hearts,  that  we  should 
be  so  evil  to  him,  who  hath  been  so  good  to  us  ;  that 
we  should  be  so  undutiful  to  so  loving  a  Father,  so 
unkind  to  so  faithful  and  constant  a  friend,  so  un- 
grateful and  unworthy  to  so  mighty  a  benefactor  ? 
If  any  thing  will  melt  us  into  tears,  surely  this 
will  do  it,  to  consider  that  we  have  sinned  against 
him  who  made  us,  and  continually  preserves  us ; 
and  after  all  our  unkindness  to  him,  did  still 
retain  so  great  a  love  for  us,  as  to  redeem  us  from 
hell  and  destruction,  by  the  death  and  suffering  of 


92       OF   CONFESSION,    AND    SORROW   FOR   SIN. 

his  Son  ;  and  notwithstanding  all  our  offences  does 
still  offer  us  pardon  and  peace,  life  and  happiness. 
Such  considerations  as  these,  seriously  laid  to  heart, 
should  one  would  think  break  the  hardest  heart, 
and  make  tears  to  gush  even  out  of  a  rock. 
x  III.  Now  I,  in  the  third  place,  proceed  to  con- 
sider the  measure  and  degree  of  our  sorrow  for 
sin.  That  it  admits  of  degrees  which  ought  to 
bear  some  proportion  to  the  heinousness  of  our 
sin$,  and  the  several  aggravations  of  them,  and 
the  time  of  our  continuance  in  them,  is  out  of 
all  dispute :  for,  though  the  least  sin  be  a  just 
cause  of  the  deepest  sorrow,  yet,  because  our 
greatest  grief  can  never  bear  a  due  proportion  to 
the  vast  and  infinite  evil  of  sin,  God  is  pleased  to 
require  and  accept  such  measures  of  sorrow,  as  do 
not  bear  an  exact  correspondence  to  the  malignity 
of  sin,  provided  they  be  according  to  the  capacity 
of  our  nature,  and  in  some  sort  proportioned  to 
the  degree  and  aggravations  of  our  sins:  i.  e. 
though  the  highest  degree  of  our  sorrow  doth  neces- 
sarily fall  below  the  evil  of  the  least  sin,  yet  God 
requires  that  we  should  be  more  deeply  affected 
with  some  sins  than  others. 

But  what  is  the  lowest  degree  which  God  re- 
quires in  a  true  penitent,  and  will  accept,  as  it  is 
impossible  for  me  tell,  so  it  is  unprofitable  for  any 
body  to  know ;  for  no  man  can  reasonably  make 
this  inquiry  with  any  other  design,  than  that  he 
may  learn  how  he  may  come  off  with  God  upon 
the  cheapest  and  easiest  terms.  Now,  there  cannot 
be  a  worse  sign,  that  a  man  is  not  truly  sensible  of 
the  great  evil  of  sin,  than  this,  that  he  desires  to  be 
troubled  for  it  as  little  as  may  be,  and  no  longer 
than  needs  must.     And  none  surely  are  more  un 


BY    ARCHBISHOP   TILLOTSON.  93 

likely  to  find  acceptance  with  God,  than  those  who 
deal  so  nearly,  and  endeavour  to  drive  so  hard  a 
bargain  with  him. 

And  therefore  I  shall  only  say  this  in  general, 
concerning  the  degrees  of  our  sorrow  for  sin ;  that 
sin  being  so  great  an  evil  in  itself,  and  of  so  perni- 
cious a  consequence  to  us,  it  cannot  be  too  much 
lamented  and  grieved  for  by  us ;  and  the  more  and 
greater  our  sins  have  been,  and  the  longer  we  have 
continued  and  lived  in  them,  they  call  for  so  much 
the  greater  sorrow,  and  deeper  humiliation  from 
us :  for  the  reasoning  of  our  Saviour  concerning 
Mary  Magdalen,  '  She  loved  much,  because  much 
was  forgiven  her,'  is  proportionably  true  in  this 
case  :  those  who  have  sinned  much,  should  sorrow 
the  more. 

And  then  we  must  take  this  caution  along  with 
us,  that  if  we  would  judge  aright  of  the  truth  of  our 
sorrow  for  sin,  we  must  not  measure  it  so  much  by 
the  degrees  of  sensible  trouble  and  affliction,  as  by 
the  rational  effects  of  it,  which  are  hatred  of  sin, 
and  a  fixed  purpose  and  resolution  against  it  for 
the  future :  for  he  is  most  truly  sorry  for  his  mis- 
carriage, who  looks  upon  what  he  hath  done  amiss 
with  abhorrence  and  detestation  of  the  thing,  and 
wisheth  he  had  not  done  it,  and  censures  himself 
severely  for  it,  and  thereupon  resolves  not  to  do 
the  like  again.  And  this  is  the  character  which 
St.  Paul  gives  of  a  godly  sorrow,  that  '  it  worketh 
repentance,'1  fxeravoiav;  it  produceth  a  real  change 
in  our  minds,  and  makes  us  to  alter  our  purpose 
and  resolution  :  and  though  such  a  person  may 
not  be  so  passionately  and  sensibly  afflicted  for 

»  2  Cor.  vii.  10. 


94        OF    CONFESSION,   AND    SORROW    FOR    SIN, 

sin,  yet  it  appears  by  the  effect,  that  he  hath  a 
deeper  and  more  rational  resentment  of  the  evil  of 
it,  than  that  man  who  is  sad,  and  melancholy,  and 
drooping,  for  never  so  long  a  time,  and  after  all, 
returns  to  his  former  sinful  course  ;  the  degree  of 
his  sorrow  may  appear  greater,  but  the  effect  of  it 
is  really  less. 

IV.  As  for  the  outward  expressions  of  our  grief 
and  sorrow.  The  usual  sign  and  outward  expres- 
sion of  sorrow  is  tears;  but  these  being  not  the 
substance  of  our  duty,  but  an  external  testimony 
of  it,  which  some  tempers  are  more  unapt  to  than 
others;  we  are  much  less  to  judge  of  the  truth  01 
our  sorrow  for  sin  by  these,  than  by  our  inward 
sensible  trouble  and  affliction  of  spirit.  Some 
persons  are  of  a  more  tender  and  melting  disposi- 
tion, and  can  command  their  tears  upon  a  little 
occasion,  and  upon  very  short  warning;  and  such 
persons  that  can  weep  for  every  thing  else  that 
troubles  them,  have  much  more  reason  to  suspect 
the  truth  of  their  sorrow  for  sin,  if  this  outward  ex- 
pression of  it  be  wanting.  And  we  find  in  Scrip- 
ture, that  the  sorrow  of  true  penitents  does  very  fre- 
quently discover  itself  by  this  outward  sign  of  it. 
Thus  when  Ezra  and  the  people  made  confes- 
sion of  their  sins  to  God,  it  is  said,  that  *  they 
wept  very  sore.'1  Peter,  when  he  reflected  upon 
that  great  sin  of  denying  his  Master,  it  is  said, 
'went  forth  and  wept  bitterly,'  David  also  was 
abundant  in  this  expression  of  his  grief.  In  the 
book  of  Psalms  he  speaks  frequently  of  his  sighs 
and  groans,  and  of  '  watering  his  couch  with  his 
tears : '  yea,  so  sensibly  was  he  affected  with  the 

1  Ezra,  x. 


BY    4RCHBISH0P   TILLOTSON.  95 

evil  of  sin,  that  he  could  shed  tears  plentifully  for 
the  sins  of  others :  \  Rivers  of  waters  run  down 
mine  eyes,  because  men  keep  not  thy  law.' \  In 
like  manner  Jeremiah  tells  us,  that  *  his  soul  did 
weep  in  secret  places,'  for  the  pride  and  obstinacy 
of  the  Jews;  that  '  his  eye  did  weep  sore,  and  run 
down  with  tears.'*  And  so  likewise  St.  Paul : 
'  There  are  many  that  walk,  of  whom  I  have  told 
you  often,  and  now  tell  you  even  weeping,  that 
they  are  enemies  to  the  cross  of  Christ.'3  And 
there  seems  to  be  this  natural  reason  for  it,  that  all 
great  and  permanent  impressions  upon  the  mind, 
all  deep  inward  resentments,  have  usually  a  pro- 
portionable effect  upon  the  body,  and  the  inferior 
faculties. 

But  though  this  happen  very  frequently,  yet  it 
is  not  so  constant  and  certain.  For  all  men  have 
not  the  same  tenderness  of  spirit,  nor  are  equally 
prone  to  tears ;  nay,  though  a  man  can  weep  upon 
natural  accounts,  as  upon  the  loss  of  a  child,  or 
near  relation,  or  an  intimate  friend,  or  when  he 
lies  under  a  sharp  bodily  pain,  yet  a  man  may 
truly  repent,  though  he  cannot  express  his  sorrow 
for  sin  the  same  way,  provided  he  give  testimony 
of  it  by  more  real  effects :  and  therefore  the  rule, 
which  is  commonly  given  by  casuists  in  this  case, 
seems  to  be  more  ensnaring  than  true  and  useful  j 
namely,  "  That  that  man  that  can  shed  tears  upon 
account  of  any  evil,  less  than  that  of  sin,  (as  cer- 
tainly all  natural  evils  are,)  ought  to  question  the 
truth  of  his  repentance  for  any  sin  that  he  hath 
committed,  if  he  cannot  shed  tears  for  it.     This  I 


1  Psalm  cxix.  13G.  a  Jer.  xiii.  17. 

3  Philip,  iii.  18,  19. 


96       OF   CONFESSION,   AND    SORROW   FOR   SIN. 

• 

think  is  not  true ;  because  there  is  scarce  any  man, 
of  so  hard  and  unrelenting  a  spirit,  but  the  loss  of 
a  kind  father,  or  a  dear  child,  or  other  near  relation, 
will  force  tears  from  him  :  and  yet  such  a  man,  if 
it  were  to  save  his  soul,  may  not  be  able  at  some 
times  to  shed  a  tear  for  his  sins.  And  the  reason 
is  obvious  ;  because  tears  do  proceed  from  a  sensi- 
tive trouble,  and  are  commonly  the -product  of  a 
natural  affection ;  and  therefore  it  is  no  wonder,  if 
they  flow  more  readily  and  easily  upon  a  natural 
account;  because  they  are  the  effect  of  a  cause 
suitable  to  their  nature.  But  sorrow  for  sin,  which 
hath  more  of  the  judgment  and  understanding  in 
it,  hath  not  its  foundation  in  natural  affection,  but 
in  reason ;  and  therefore  may  not  many  times  ex- 
press itself  in  tears,  though  it  may  produce  greater 
and  more  proper  effects. 

So  that,  upon  the  whole  matter,  I  see  no  reason 
to  call  in  question  the  truth  and  sincerity  of  that 
man's  sorrow  and  repentance,  who  hates  sin  and 
forsakes  it,  and  returns  to  God  and  his  duty, 
though  he  cannot  shed  tears,  and  express  the  bit- 
terness of  his  soul  for  his  sin,  by  the  same  signifi- 
cations that  a  mother  doth  in  the  loss  of  her  only 
son.  He  that  cannot  weep  like  a  child  may  re- 
solve like  a  man ;  and  that  undoubtedly  will  find 
acceptance  with  God.  A  learned  divine  hath  well 
illustrated  this  matter  by  this  similitude.  Two 
persons  walking  together  espy  .a  serpent ;  the  one 
shrieks  and  cries  out  at  the  sight  of  it,  the  other 
kills  it :  so  it  is  in  sorrow  for  sin ;  some  express  it 
by  great  lamentation  and  tears,  and  vehement 
transports  of  passion  ;  others  by  greater  and  more 
real  effects  of  hatred  and  detestation,  by  forsaking 
their  sins,  and  by  mortifying  and  subduing  their 


BY    ARCHBISHOP   TILLOTSON.  97 

lusts :  but  he  that  kills  it  does  certainly  best  ex- 
press his  inward  displeasure  and  enmity  against  it. 

The  application  I  shall  make  of  what  hath  been 
said  upon  this  argument,  shall  be  in  two  parti- 
culars. 

I.  By  way  of  caution,  and  that  against  a  double 
mistake  about  sorrow  for  sin. 

1.  Some  look  upon  trouble  and  sorrow  for  sin,  as 
the  whole  of  repentance. 

2.  Others  exact  from  themselves  such  a  degree 
of  sorrow  as  ends  in  melancholy,  and  renders  them 
unfit  both  for  the  duties  of  religion,  and  of  their 
particular  calling.  The  first  concerns  almost  the 
generality  of  men ;  the  latter  but  a  very  few  in 
comparison. 

1.  There  are  a  great  many,  who  look  upon  trou- 
ble and  sorrow  for  their  sins,  as  the  whole  of  re- 
pentance, whereas  it  is  but  an  introduction  to  it. 
It  is  that  which  works  repentance ;  but  is  not 
repentance  itself.  Repentance  is  always  accom- 
panied with  sorrow  for  sin  ;  but  sorrow  for  sin  does 
not  always  end  in  true  repentance :  sorrow  only 
respects  sins  past ;  but  repentance  is  chiefly  pre- 
ventive of  sin  for  the  future.  And  God  doth 
therefore  require  our  sorrow  for  sin,  in  order  to 
our  forsaking  of  it.  ■  Repentance  is  there  called  '  re- 
pentance from  dead  works.'  It  is  not  only  a  sor- 
row for  them,  but  a  turning  from  them. 

There  is  no  reason  why  men  should  be  so  wil- 
ling to  deceive  themselves,  for  they  are  like  to  be 
the  losers  by  it :  but  so  we  see  it  is,  that  many 
men  are  contented  to  be  deceived  to  their  own 
ruin;   and  among  many  other  ways,  which  men 

1  Heb  vi.  1. 


98   OF  CONFESSION,  AND  SORROW  FOR  SIN. 

have  to  cheat  themselves,  this  is  none  of  the  least 
frequent,  to  think  that  if  they  can  but  shed  a  few 
tears  for  sin  upon  a  death-bed — which  no  doubt  they 
may  easily  do,  when  they  see  their  friends  weeping 
about  them,  and  apprehend  themselves  to  be  in 
iminent  danger,  not  only  of  death,  but  of  that 
which  is  more  terrible,  the  heavy  displeasure,  and 
the  fiery  indignation  of  Almighty  God, '  into  whose 
hands  it  is  a  fearful  thing  to  fall;' — I  say,  they 
think  that  if  they  can  but  do  thus  much,  God  will 
accept  this  for  a  true  repentance,  and  hereupon 
grant  them  pardon  and  eternal  life.  And  upon 
these  fond  hopes,  they  adjourn  their  repentance, 
and  the  reformation  of  their  lives  to  a  dying  hour. 

Indeed,  if  I  were  to  speak  to  a  man  upon  his 
death-bed,  I  would  encourage  him  to  a  great  con- 
trition and  sorrow  for  his  sins,  as  his  last  and  only 
remedy,  and  the  best  thing  he  can  do  at  that  time ; 
but  on  the  other  hand,  when  I  am  speaking  to 
those  'Aat  are  well  and  in  health,  I  dare  not  give 
them  the  least  encouragement  to  venture  their  souls 
upon  this,  because  it  is  a  hazardous,  and  almost 
desperate  remedy  ;  especially  when  men  have  cun- 
ningly and  designedly  contrived  to  rob  God  of  the 
service  of  their  lives,  and  to  put  him  off  with  a  few 
unprofitable  sighs  and  tears,  at  their  departure 
out  of  the  world.  Our  Saviour  tells  us,  that  it  is 
'not  every  one,  that  shall  say  unto  him  Lord! 
Lord !  that  shall  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven ; 
and  that  there  is  a  time,  when  '  many  shall  seek  to 
enter  in,  but  shall  not  be  able.' 

The  sum  of  this  caution  is,  that  men  should  take 
heed  of  mistaking  sorrow  for  sin,  for  true  repent- 
ance, unless  it  be  followed  with  the  forsaking  of 
sin  and  the  real  reformation  of  our  lives.     Ahab 


BY    ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON.  99 

humbled  himself,  but  we  do  not  find  that  he  was  a 
true  penitent.  Judas  was  sorry  for  his  sin,  and  yet 
for  all  that  was  •  the  son  of  perdition.'  Esau  is  a 
sad  type  of  an  ineffectual  sorrow  for  sin,  Heb.  xii. 
where  the  apostle  tells  us,  that  '  he  found  no  place 
for  repentance ;'  that  is,  no  way  to  change  the  mind 
of  his  father  Isaac,  though  he  sought  it  carefully 
with  tears.  If  sorrow  for  sin  were  repentance, 
there  would  be  store  of  penitents  in  hell ;  for  there 
is  the  deepest  and  most  intense  sorrow, '  weeping 
and  wailing  and  gnashing  of  teeth.' 

2.  Another  mistake  which  men  ought  to  be  cau 
tioned  against  in  this  matter,  is  of  those  who  exact 
from  themselves  such  a  degree  of  sorrow  for  sin  as 
ends  in  deep  melancholy,  as  renders  them  unfit 
both  for  the  duties  of  religion,  and  of  their  particu- 
lar callings.  But  because  there  are  but  very  few 
who  fall  into  this  mistake,  I  shall  need  to  say  the 
less  to  it.  This  only  I  shall  say,  that  those  who 
indulge  their  sorrow  to  such  a  degree  as  to  drown 
their  spirits,  and  to  sink  them  into  melancholy  and 
mopishness,  and  thereby  render  themselves  unser- 
viceable to  God,  and  unfit  for  the  necessities  of  this 
life,  they  commit  one  sin  more  to  mourn  for,  and 
overthrow  the  end  of  repentance  by  the  indiscreet 
use  of  the  means  of  it.  For  the  end  of  sorrow  for 
sin  is  the  forsaking  of  it,  and  returning  to  our  duty: 
but  he  that  sorrows  for  sin,  so  as  to  unfit  him  for 
his  duty,  defeats  his  own  design,  and  destroys  the 
end  he  aims  at. 

II.  The  other  part  of  the  application  of  this  dis- 
course should  be  to  stir  up  this  affection  of  sorrow 
in  us.  And  here,  if  I  had  time,  I  might  represent 
to  you  the  great  evil  of  sin,  and  the  infinite  danger 
and  inconvenience  of  it.    If  the  holy  men  in  Scrip- 

H  2 


100   ON  CONFE8SION,  AND  SORROW  FOR  SIN. 

ture,  David,  and  Jeremiah,  and  St.  Paul  were  so 
deeply  affected  with  the  sins  of  others,  as  to  shed 
rivers  of  tears  at  the  remembrance  of  them ;  how 
ought  we  to  be  touched  with  the  sense  of  our  own 
sins,  who  are  equally  concerned  in  the  dishonour 
brought  to  God  by  them,  and  infinitely  more  in 
the  danger  they  expose  us  to !  Can  we  weep  for 
our  dead  friends  ?  and  have  we  no  sense  of  that 
heavy  load  of  guilt,  of  that ■  body  of  death/  which 
we  carry  about  with  us?  Can  we  be  sad  and 
melancholy  for  temporal  losses  and  sufferings,  and 
'  refuse  to  be  comforted  ?/  and  is  it  no  trouble  to 
us  to  have  lost  heaven  and  happiness,  and  to  be  in 
continual  danger  of  the  intolerable  sufferings,  and 
endless  torments  of  another  world  ? 

I  shall  only  offer  to  your  consideration  the  great 
benefit  and  advantage  which  will  redound  to  us 
from  this  godly  sorrow ;  '  it  worketh  repentance  to 
salvation,  not  to  be  repented  of/  saith  St.  Paul. 
If  we  would  thus  f  sow  in  tears,'  we  should  '  reap  in 
joy/  This  sorrow  would  but  continue  for  a  time,' 
and  'in  the  morning  of  the  resurrection  there 
would  be  joy  to  all  eternity,  'joy  unspeakable  and 
full  of  glory.'  It  is  but  a  very  little  while,  and 
these  'days  of  mourning  will  be  accomplished;' 
and  then  \  all  tears  shall  be  wiped  from  our  eyes ; 
and  the  ransomed  of  the  Lord  shall  come  to  Sion 
with  songs,  and  everlasting  joy  shall  be  upon  their 
heads.  They  shall  obtain  joy  and  gladness,  and 
sorrow  and  sighing  shall  flee  away.  Blessed  are 
they  that  mourn,  for  they  shall  be  comforted  :  but 
woe  unto  you  that  laugh,  for  ye  shall  mourn  and 
weep.'  If  men  will  rejoice  in  the  pleasures  of  sin, 
and  '  walk  in  the  ways  of  their  hearts,  and  in  the 
sight  of  their  eyes;'  if  they  will  'remove  sorrow 


BY    ARCHBISHOP    TILLOTSON.  101 

from  their  heart/  and  put  away  all  sad  and  melan- 
choly thoughts  from  them,  and  are  resolved  to 
harden  their  spirits  against  the  sense  of  sin,  against 
the  checks  and  convictions  of  their  own  consciences, 
and  the  suggestions  of  God's  Holy  Spirit,  against 
all  the  arguments  that  God  can  offer,  and  all  the 
methods  that  God  can  use  to  bring  them  to  repent- 
ance; let  them  'know,  that  for  all  these  things 
God  will  bring  them  into  judgment;'  and  because 
they  would  not  give  way  to  a  timely  and  season- 
able sorrow  for  sin,  they  shall  lie  down  in  eternal 
sorrow,  'weeping  and  wailing  and  gnashing  of 
teeth  shall  be  their  portion  for  ever.'  From  which 
sad  and  miserable  estate,  beyond  all  imagination, 
and  past  all  remedy,  God  of  his  infinite  goodness 
deliver  us  all,  for  Jesus  Christ's  sake. 


SERMON  VI. 

ON    REPENTANCE. 

BY  BISHOP  TAYLOR. 


Jkkemy  Taylor  was  born  in  1613.    At  the  Restoration,  in  1660,  he ' 
appointed  to  the  bishopric  of  Down  and  Connor.    He  died  i    1667 


SERMON    VI. 


otREMUH,   XIII.    16. 

Give  glory  to  the  Lord  your  God,  before  he  cause 
darkness,  and  before  your  feet  stumble  on  the 
dark  mountains,  and,  while  ye  look  for  light,  {or, 
lest  while  ye  look  for  light,)  he  shall  turn  it  into 
the  shadow  of  death,  and  make  it  gross  darkness. 

God  is  the  eternal  fountain  of  honour  and  the 
spring  of  glory  ;  in  him  it  dwells  essentially,  from 
him  it  derives  originally ;  and  when  an  action  is 
glorious,  or  a  man  is  honourable,  it  is  because  the 
action  is  pleasing  to  God,  in  the  relation  of  obedi- 
ence or  imitation,  and  because  the  man  is  honoured 
by  God,  and  by  God's  vicegerent :  and  therefore, 
God  cannot  be  dishonoured,  because  all  honour 
comes  from  himself;  he  cannot  but  be  glorified, 
because  to  be  himself  is  to  be  infinitely  glorious. 
And  yet  he  is  pleased  to  say,  that  our  sins  disho- 
nour him,  and  our  obedience  does  glorify  him.  But 
as  the  sun,  the  great  eye  of  the  world,  prying  into 
the  recesses  of  rocks  and  the  hollowness  of  valleys, 
receives  appearances  or  visible  forms  from  these 
objects,  but  he  beholds  them  only  by  that  ligh 


106  ON  REPENTANCE. 

which  proceeds  from  himself;  so  does  God,  who  is 
the  light  of  that  eye ;  he  receives  reflexes  and  re- 
turns from  us,  and  these  he  calls  '  glorifications'  of 
himself,  but  they  are  such  as  are  made  so  by  his 
own  gracious  acceptation.  For  God  cannot  be  glo- 
rified by  any  thing  but  by  himself,  and  by  his  own 
instruments,  which  he  makes  as  mirrors  to  reflect 
his  own  excellency ;  that  by  seeing  the  glory  of 
such  emanations,  he  may  rejoice  in  his  own  works, 
because  they  are  images  of  his  infinity.  Thus  when 
he  made  the  beauteous  frame  of  heaven  and  earth, 
he  rejoiced  in  it,  and  glorified  himself;  because  it 
was  the  glass  in  which  he  beheld  his  wisdom  and 
almighty  power.  And  when  God  destroyed  the  old 
world,  in  that  also  he  glorified  himself;  for  in  those 
waters  he  saw  the  image  of  his  justice, — they  were 
the  looking-glass  for  that  attribute;  and  God  is 
said  '  to  laugh  at*  and  rejoice  in  the  destruction  of 
a  sinner,  because  he  is  pleased  with  the  economy  of 
his  own  laws,  and  the  excellent  proportions  he  hath 
made  of  his  judgments  consequent  to  our  sins. 
But,  above  all,  God  rejoiced  in  his  holy  Son ;  for 
he  was  the  image  of  the  Divinity,  *  the  character 
and  express  image  of  his  person ;'  in  him  he  beheld 
his  own  essence,  his  wisdom,  his  power,  his  justice, 
and  his  person ;  and  he  was  that  excellent  instru- 
ment designed  from  eternal  ages  to  represent,  as  in 
a  double  mirror,  not  only  the  glories  of  God  to 
himself,  but  also  to  all  the  world ;  and  he  glorified 
God  by  the  instrument  of  obedience,  in  which  God 
beheld  his  own  dominion  and  the  sanctity  of  his 
laws  clearly  represented ;  and  he  saw  his  justice 
glorified,  when  it  was  fully  satisfied  by  the  passion 
of  his  Son  :  and  so  he  hath  transmitted  to  us  a  great 
manner  of  the  divine  glorification,  being  become  to 


BY   BISHOP  TAYLOR.  107 

us  the  author  and  example  of  giving  glory  to  God 
after  the  manner  of  men,  that  is,  by  well  doing  and 
patient  suffering,  by  obeying  his  laws  and  submit- 
ting to  his  power,  by  imitating  his  holiness  and 
confessing  his  goodness,  by  remaining  innocent  or 
becoming  penitent ;  for  this  also  is  called  in  the 
text *  giving  glory  to  the  Lord  our  God.' 

For  he  that  hath  dishonoured  God  by  sins,  that 
is,  hath  denied,  by  a  moral  instrument  of  duty  and 
subordination,  to  confess  the  glories  of  his  power, 
and  the  goodness  of  his  laws,  and  hath  dishonoured 
and  despised  his  mercy,  which  God  intended  as  an 
instrument  of  our  piety,  hath  no  better  way  to 
glorify  God  than  by  returning  to  his  duty,  to  ad- 
vance the  honour  of  the  divine  attributes,  in  which 
he  is  pleased  to  communicate  himself,  and  to  have 
intercourse  with  man.  He  that  repents,  confesses 
his  own  error,  and  the  righteousness  of  God's  laws; 
and  by  judging  himself  confesses  that  he  deserves 
punishment ;  and  therefore,  that  God  is  righteous 
if  he  punishes  him;  and,  by  returning,  confesses 
God  to  be  the  fountain  of  felicity,  and  the  founda- 
tion of  true,  solid,  and  permanent  joys,  saying  in 
the  sense  and  passion  of  the  disciples,  '  Whither 
shall  we  go  ?  for  thou  hast  the  words  of  eternal 
life:'  and,  by  humbling  himself,  exalts  God,  by 
making  the  proportions  of  distance  more  immense 
and  vast.  And  as  repentance  does  contain  in  it  all 
the  parts  of  holy  life,  which  can  be  performed  by 
a  returning  sinner;  (all  the  acts  and  habits  of  vir- 
tue being  but  parts,  or  instances,  or  effects  of  re- 
pentance;) so  all  the  actions  of  a  holy  life  do  con- 
stitute the  mass  and  body  of  all  those  instruments, 
whereby  God  is  pleased  to  glorify  himself.  For  if 
God  is  glorified  in  the  sun  and  moon,  in  the  rare 


108  ON   REPENTANCE. 

fabric  of  the  honeycombs,  in  the  discipline  of  bees, 
in  the  economy  of  ants,  in  the  little  houses  of 
birds,  in  the  curiosity  of  an  eye,  God  being  pleased 
to  delight  in  those  little  images  and  reflexes  of 
himself  from  those  pretty  mirrors,  which,  like  a  cre- 
vice in  the  wall,  through  a  narrow  perspective, 
transmit  the  species  of  a  vast  excellency;  much 
rather  shall  God  be  pleased  to  behold  himself  in 
the  glasses  of  our  obedience,  in  the  emissions  of  our 
will  and  understanding;  these  being  rational  and 
apt  instruments  to  express  him,  far  better  than  the 
natural,  as  being  nearer  communications  of  him- 
self. 

But  I  shall  no  longer  discourse  of  the  philoso- 
phy of  this  expression :  certain  it  is,  that  in  the 
style  of  Scripture,  repentance  is  the  great  '  glorifica- 
tion of  God  ;'  and  the  prophet,  by  calling  the  peo- 
ple to  *  give  God  glory/  calls  on  them  'to  repent/ 
and  so  expresses  both  the  duty  and  the  event  of  it; 
the  event  being  'glory  to  God  on  high,  peace  on 
earth,  and  good-will  towards  men'  by  the  sole  in- 
strument of  repentance.  And  this  was  it  which 
Joshua  said  to  Achan,  ■  Give,  I  pray  thee, 
glory  to  the  Lord  God  of  Israel,  and  make 
confession  unto  him :' l  that  one  act  of  repent- 
ance is  one  act  of  glorifying  God.  And  this  David 
acknowledged;  'Against  thee  only  have  I  sinned 
that  thou  mightest  be  justified  or  cleared  :'* 
that  is,  that  God  may  have  the  honour  of  being 
righteous,  and  we  the  shame  of  receding  from  so 
excellent  a  perfection ;  or,  as  St.  Paul  quotes  and 
explicates  the  place, '  Let,God  be  true,  and  every 
man  a  liar;  as   it  is   written,   that  thou  mightest 

1  Joshua,  vii.  19.  2  Psalm  li.  4. 


BY    BISHOP  TAYLOR.  109 

be  justified  in  thy  sayings,  and  mightest  overcome 
when  thou  art  judged.'1  But  to  clear  the  sense  of 
this  expression  of  the  prophet,  observe  the  words  of 
St.  John :  '  And  men  were  scorched  with  great 
heat,  and  blasphemed  the  name  of  God,  who  hath 
power  over  those  plagues  :  and  they  repented  not 
to  give  him  glory.'  * 

So  that  having  strength  and  reason  from  these  so 
many  authorities,  I  may  be  free  to  read  the  words 
of  my  text  thus  :  '  Repent  of  all  your  sins,  before 
God  cause  darkness,  and  before  your  feet  stumble 
on  the  dark  mountains.'  And  then  we  have  here 
the  duty  of  repentance,  and  the  time  of  its  perform- 
ance. It  must  be  fxeravoia  evKaipog,  "  a  seasonable 
and  timely  repentance,"  a  repentance  which  must 
begin  before  our  darkness  begin,  a  repentance  in 
the  day-time ;  "  that  ye  may  work  while  it  is  to- 
day;"  lest,  if  we  '  stumble  on  the  dark  mountains/ 
that  is,  fall  into  the  ruins  of  old  age,  which  makes  a 
broad  way  narrow,  and  a  plain  way  to  be  a  craggy 
mountain  ;  or  if  we  stumble  and  fall  into  pur  last 
sickness;  instead  of  health  God  send  us  to  our 
grave ;  and,  instead  of  light  and  salvation,  which 
we  then  confidently  look  for,  he  make  our  state  to 
be  outer  darkness,  that  is,  misery  irremediable,  mi- 
sery eternal. 

This  exhortation  of  the  prophet  was  always  full 
of  caution  and  prudence,  but  now  it  is  highly  ne- 
cessary ;  since  men,  who  are  so  clamorously  called 
to  repentance,  that  they  cannot  avoid  the  necessity 
of  it ;  yet,  that  they  may  reconcile  an  evil  life  with 
the  hopes  of  heaven,  have  crowded  this  duty  into 
so  little  room,  that  it  is  almost  strangled  and  ex- 

*  Kom.  iii.  4.  2  Rev.  xvi.  9. 


110  ON    REPENTANCE. 

tinct ;  and  they  have  lopped  off  so  many  members, 
that  they  have  reduced  the  whole  body  of  it  to  the 
dimensions  of  a  little  finger,  sacrificing  their  child- 
hood to  vanity,  their  youth  to  lust  and  to  intem- 
perance, their  manhood  to  ambition  and  rage, 
pride  and  revenge,  secular  desires  and  unholy  ac- 
tions ;  and  yet  still  further,  giving  their  old  age  to 
covetousness  and  oppression,  to  the  world  and  the 
devil :  and,  after  all  this,  what  remains  for  God 
and  for  religion  ?  Oh,  for  that  they  will  do  well 
enough  :  on  their  death-bed  they  will  think  a  few 
godly  tnoughts,  they  will  send  for  a  priest  to  minis- 
ter comfort  to  them,  they  will  pray  and  ask  God 
forgiveness,  and  receive  the  holy  sacrament,  and 
leave  their  goods  behind  them,  disposing  them 
to  their  friends  and  relatives,  and  some  dole  and 
issues  of  the  alms-basket  to  the  poor ;  and  if  after 
all  this  they  die  quietly,  and  like  a  lamb,  and  be 
canonised  by  a  bribed  flatterer  in  a  funeral  sermon, 
they  make  no  doubt  but  they  are  children  of  the 
kingdom,  and  perceive  not  their  folly,  till,  without 
Jiope  of  remedy,  they  roar  in  their  expectations  of 
a  certain,  but  a  horrid  eternity  of  pains.  Certainly 
nothing  hath  made  more  ample  harvests  for  the 
devil,  than  the  deferring  of  repentance  on  vain 
confidences,  and  lessening  it  in  the  extension  of 
parts  as  well  as  intention  of  degrees,  while  we  ima- 
gine that  a  few  tears  and  scatterings  of  devotion  are 
enough  to  expiate  the  baseness  of  a  fifty  or  a  three- 
score years'  impiety.  This  I  shall  endeavour  to 
cure,  by  showing  what  it  is  to  repent,  and  that  re- 
pentance implies  in  it  the  duty  of  a  life,  or  of 
many  and  great,  of  long  and  lasting  parts  of  it; 
and  then,  by  direct  arguments,  showing  that  re- 
pentauce  put  off  to  our  death-bed,  is  invalid  and 


BY   BISHOP   TAYLOR.  Ill 

ineffectual,  sick,  languid,  and  impotent,  like  our 
bodies  and  disabled  faculties. 

1.  First,  therefore,  repentance  implies  a  deep 
sorrow,  as  the  beginning  and  introduction  of  this 
duty :  not  a  superficial  sigh  or  tear,  not  a  calling 
ourselves  sinners  and  miserable  persons :  this  is  far 
from  that  •  godly  sorrow  that  worketh  repentance  :' 
and  yet  I  wish  there  were  none  in  the  world,  or 
none  amongst  us,  who  cannot  remember  that  ever 
they  have  done  this  little  towards  the  abolition  of 
their  multitudes  of  sins :  but  yet,  if  it  were  not  a 
hearty,  pungent  sorrow,  a  sorrow  that  shall  break 
the  heart  in  pieces,  a  sorrow  that  shall  so  irrecon- 
cile  us  to  sin,  as  to  make  us  rather  choose  to  die 
than  to  sin,  it  is  not  so  much  as  the  beginning  of 
repentance.  But  in  Holy  Scripture,  when  the 
people  are  called  to  repentance,  and  sorrow  (which 
is  ever  the  prologue  to  it)  marches  sadly,  and  first 
opens  the  scene,  it  is  ever  expressed  to  be  great, 
clamorous,  and  sad  :'  it  is  called  *  a  weeping  sorely' 
in  the  next  verse  after  my  text ;  '  a  weeping  with 
the  bitterness  of  heart;'  'a  turning  to  the  Lord 
with  weeping,  fasting,  and  mourning;'1  'a,  weep- 
ing day  and  night;'  the  'sorrow  of  heart;'  the 
'  breaking  of  the  spirit ;'  the  *  mourning  like  a 
dove,'  and  'chattering  like  a  swallow.'8  And  if 
we  observe  the  threnes3  and  sad  accents  of  the 
prophet  Jeremy,  when  he  wept  for  the  sins  of  his 
nation ;  the  heart-breakings  of  David,  when  he 
mourned  for  his  adultery  and  murder;  and  the 
bitter  tears  of  St.  Peter,  when  he  washed  off  the 
guilt  and  baseness  of  his  fall,  and  the  denying  his 
Master ;  we  shall  be  sufficiently  instructed  in  this 

1  Ezek.  xxvii.  31.  a  Joel,  ii.  13. 

J  Qpijvog.,  wailing,  lamentation. 


112  ON    REPENTANCE. 

-prceludium  or  "  introduction"  to  repentance ;  and 
that  it  is  not  every  breath  of  a  sigh,  or  moisture  oi 
a  tender  eye  ;  not  every  crying  "  Lord  have  mercy 
on  me,"  that  is  such  a  sorrow,  as  begins  our  restitu- 
tion to  the  state  of  grace  and  divine  favour ;  but 
such  a  sorrow,  that  really  condemns  ourselves,  and 
by  an  active,  effectual  sentence,  declares  us  worthy 
of  stripes  and  death,  of  sorrow  and  eternal  pains, 
and  willingly  endures  the  first  to  prevent  the 
second ;  and  weeps,  and  mourns,  and  fasts,  to  ob- 
tain of  God  but  to  admit  us  to  a  possibility  of  res- 
titution. And,  although  all,  sorrow  for  sins  hath 
not  the  same  expression,  nor  the  same  degree  of 
pungency  and  sensitive  trouble,  which  differ  ac- 
cording to  the  temper  of  the  body,  custom,  the  sex, 
and  accidental  tenderness ;  '  yet  it  is  not  a  godly 
sorrow,  unless  it  really  produce  those  effects :  that 
is,  first,  that  it  makes  us  really  to  hate,  and, 
secondly,  actually  to  decline  sin ;  and,  thirdly, 
produce  in  us  a  fear  of  God's  anger,  a  sense 
of  the  guilt  of  his  displeasure  ;  and,  fourthly, 
then  such  consequent  trouble  as  can  consist 
with  such  apprehension  of  the  divine  displeasure : 
which  if  it  express  not  in  tears  and  hearty  com- 
plaints, must  be  expressed  in  watch ings  and  striv- 
ings against  sin;  in  confessing  the  goodness  and 
justice  of  God  threatening  or  punishing  u«  ;  in  pa- 
tiently bearing  the  rod  of  God ;  in  confession  of  our 
sins ;  in  accusation  of  ourselves ;  in  perpetual 
begging  of  pardon,  and  mean  and  base  opinions  of 
ourselves ;  and  in  all  the  natural  productions  from 
these,  according  to  our  temper  and  constitution  ; — 
it  must  be  a  sorrow  of  the  reasonable  faculty,  the 

'•  See  Rule  of  Holy  Living,  art.  Repentance. 


BY   BISHOP   TAYLOR.  113 

greatest  in  its  kind  :  and  if  it  be  less  in  kind,  or  not 
productive  of  these  effects,  it  is  not  a  godly  sorrow, 
not  the  beginning  of  repentance. 

But  I  desire  that  it  be  observed,  that  sorrow  for 
sins  is  not  repentance ;  not  that  duty  which  gives 
glory  to  God,  so  as  to  obtain  of  him  that  he  will 
glorify  us.  Repentance  is  a  great  volume  of  duty  ; 
and  godly  sorrow  is  but  the  frontispiece  or  title- 
page  ;  it  is  the  harbinger  or  first  introduction  to  it : 
or,  if  you  will  consider  it  in  the  words  of  St.  Paul, 
•  Godly  sorrow  worketh  repentance :' ' — sorrow  is  the 
parent,  and  repentance  is  the  product.  And,  there- 
fore, it  is  a  high  piece  of  ignorance  to  suppose,  that 
a  crying  out  and  roaring  for  our  sins  on  our  death- 
bed can  reconcile  us  to  God :  our  crying  to  God 
must  be  so  early  and  so  lasting,  as  to  be  able  to 
teem  and  produce  such  a  daughter,  which  must 
live  long,  and  grow  from  an  embryo  to  an  infant, 
from  infancy  to  childhood,  from  thence  to  the  ful- 
ness of  the  stature  of  Christ ;  and  then  it  is  a  holy 
and  a  happy  sorrow.  But  if  it  be  a  sorrow  only  of 
a  death-bed,  it  is  a  fruitless  shower;  or,  like  the 
rain  of  Sodom,  not  the  beginning  of  repentance, 
but  the  kindling  of  a  flame,  the  commencement  of 
an  eternal  sorrow.  For  Ahab  had,,  a  great  sorrow, 
but  it  wrought  nothing  on  his  spirit ;  it  did  not  re- 
concile his  affections  to  his  duty,  and  his  duty  to 
God.  Judas  had  so  great  a  sorrow  for  betraying 
the  innocent  blood  of  his  Lord,  that  it  was  intoler- 
able to  his  spirit.  And  if  mere  sorrow  be  repent- 
ance, then  hell  is  full  of  penitents ;  for  •  there  is 
weeping,  and  wailing,  and  gnashing  of  teeth,  for 
evermore.' 

Let  us,  therefore,  beg  of  God,  as  Caleb's  daughter 

1  2  Cor.  vii.  10. 

I 


J  14  ON    REPENTANCE. 

did  of  her  father :  '  Thou  hast  given  me  a  dry  land, 
give  me  also  a  land  of  waters/  a  dwelling-place  in 
tears,  rivers  of  tears  ;  "that,"  as  St.  Austin's  expres- 
sion is,  "  because  we  are  not  worthy  to  lift  up  our 
eyes  to  heaven  in  prayer,  yet  we  may  be  worthy  to 
weep  ourselves  blind  for  sin."1  The  meaning  is, 
that  we  beg  sorrow  of  God,  such  a  sorrow  as  may 
be  sufficient  to  quench  the  flames  of  lust,  and  sur- 
mount the  hills  of  our  pride,  and  may  extinguish 
our  thirst  of  covetousness ;  that  is,  a  sorrow  that 
shall  be  an  effective  principle  of  arming  all  our  fa- 
culties against  sin,  and  heartily  setting  on  the  work 
of  grace,  and  the  persevering  labours  of  a  holy  life. 
I  shall  only  add  one  word  to  this:  that  our  sorrow 
for  sin  is  not  to  be  estimated  by  our  tears  and  our 
sensible  expressions,  but  by  our  active  hatred  and 
dereliction  of  sin  ;  and  is  many  times  unperceived 
in  outward  demonstration.  We  can  only  be  sure  that 
our  sorrow  is  a  godly  sorrow,  when  it  worketh  re- 
pentance ;  that  is,  when  it  makes  us  hate  and  leave 
all  our  sin,  and  take  up  the  cross  of  patience  or  pe- 
nance; that  is,  confess  our  sin,  accuse  ourselves, 
condemn  the  action  by  hearty  sentence :  and  then, 
if  it  hath  no  other  emanation  but  fasting  and  prayer 
for  its  pardon,  and  hearty  industry  towards  its 
abolition,  our  sorrow  is  not  reprovable. 

2.  For  sorrow  alone  will  not  do  it ;  there  must 
follow  a  total  dereliction  of  our  sin ;  and  this  is  the 
first  part  of  repentance.  Concerning  which  I  con- 
sider, that  it  is  a  sad  mistake  amongst  many  that 
do  some  things  towards  repentance,  that  they  mis- 
take the  first  addresses  and  instruments  of  this  part 
of  repentance  for  the  whole  duty  itself.     Confes- 

1  Ut,  quoniam  non  sumus  digni  oculus  orando  ad  ccelum  le- 
vare,  at  simus  digni  oculos  plorando  caecare. 


BY    BISHOP   TAYLOR.  115 

sion  of  sins  is  in  order  to  the  dereliction  of  them : 
but  then  confession  must  not  be  like  the  unlading 
of  a  ship  to  take  in  new  stowage ;  or  the  vomits  of 
intemperance,  which  ease  the  stomach  that  they 
may  continue  the  merry  meeting.  But  such  a 
confession  is  too  frequent,  in  which  men  either 
comply  with  custom,  or  seek  to  ease  a  present 
load  or  gripe  of  conscience,  or  are  willing  tq 
dress  up  their  souls  against  a  festival,  or  hope 
for  pardon  on  so  easy  terms :  these  are  but  re- 
tirings  back  to  leap  the  further  into  mischief;  or 
but  approaches  to  God  with  the  lips.  No  con- 
fession can  be  of  any  use,  but  as  it  is  an  instru- 
ment of  shame  to  the  person,  of  humiliation  to 
the  man,  and  dereliction  of  the  sin ;  and  receives 
its  recompense  but  as  it  adds  to  these  purposes :  all 
other  is  like  '  the  bleating  of  the  calves  and  the 
lowing  of  the  oxen/  which  Saul  reserved  after  the 
spoil  of  Agag ;  they  proclaim  the  sin,  but  do  no- 
thing towards  its  cure;  they  serve  God's  end  to 
make  us  justly  to  be  condemned  out  of  our  own 
mouths,  but  nothing  at  all  towards  our  absolution. 
Nay,  if  we  proceed  further  to  the  greatest  expres- 
sions of  humiliation,  (parts  of  which  I  reckon  fast- 
ing, praying  for  pardon,  judging  and  condemning 
of  ourselves  by  instances  of  a  present  indignation 
against  a  crime,)  yet,  unless  this  proceed  so  far  as 
to  a  total  deletion  of  the  sin,  to  the  extirpation  of 
every  vicious  habit,  God  is  not  glorified  by  our  re- 
pentance, nor  we  secured  in  our  eternal  interest. 
Our  sin  must  be  brought  to  judgment,  and,  like 
Antinous  in  Homer,  laid  in  the  midst,  as  the  sac- 
rifice and  the  cause  of  all  the  mischief.1     This  is 

1  *AXX'  6  fikv  rjSt]  jcelrai,  og  clItioq  J-ttXsto  tt&vtojv.  Od.x.48. 

I  2 


116  ON    REPENTANCE. 

the  murderer,  this  is  the  '  Achan/  this  is  *  he  that 
troubles  Israel :'  let  the  sin  be  confessed  and  car- 
ried with  the  pomps  and  solemnities  of  sorrow  to 
its  funeral,  and  so  let  the  murderer  be  slain.  But 
if,  after  all  the  forms  of  confession  and  sorrow,  fast- 
ing, and  humiliation,  and  pretence  of  doing  the 
will  of  God,  we  '  spare  Agag  and  the  fattest  of  the 
cattle' — our  delicious  sins — and  still  leave  an  unlaw- 
ful king,  and  a  tyrant  sin  to  reign  in  our  mortal 
bodies ;  we  may  pretend  what  we  will  towards  re- 
pentance, but  we  are  no  better  penitents  than 
Ahab ;  no  nearer  to  the  obtaining  of  our  hopes 
than  Esau  was  to  his  birthright,  '  for  whose  re- 
pentance there  was  no  place  left,  though  he  sought 
it  carefully  with  tears.' 

3.  Well,  let  us  suppose  our  penitent  advanced 
thus  far,  as  that  he  decrees  against  all  sin,  and  in 
his  hearty  purposes  resolves  to  decline  it,  as  in  a 
severe  sentence  he  hath  condemned  it  as  his  be- 
trayer and  his  murderer;  yet  we  must  be  curious 
(for  now  only  the  repentance  properly  begins) 
that  it  be  not  only  like  the  springings  of  the  thorny 
or  the  high-way  ground,  soon  up  and  soon  down: 
for  some  men,  when  a  sadness  or  an  unhandsome 
accident  surprises  them,  then  they  resolve  against 
their  sin ;  but  as  soon  as  the  thorns  are  removed,  re- 
turn to  their  first  hardness,  and  resolve  then  to  act 
their  first  temptation.  Others  there  are  who  never  re- 
solve against  a  sin,  but  either  when  they  have  no 
temptation  to  it,  or  when  their  appetites  are  newly 
satisfied  with  it;  like  those  who  immediately  after 
a  full  dinner  resolve  to  fast  at  supper,  and  they 
keep  it  till  their  appetite  returns,  and  then  their 
resolution  unties  like  the  cords  of  vanity,  or  the 
gossamer  against  the  violence  of  the  northern  wind. 


BY   BISHOP    TAYLOR.  117 

Thus  a  lustful  person  fills  all  the  capacity  of  his 
lust ;  and  when  he  is  wearied,  and  the  sin  goes  off 
with  unquietness  and  regret,  and  the  appetite  falls 
down  like  a  horse-leech,  when  it  is  ready  to  burst 
with  putrefaction  and  an  unwholesome  plethory, 
then  he  resolves  to  be  a  good  man,  and  could  al- 
most vow  to  be  a  hermit :  but,  the  next  spring- tide 
that  comes,  every  wave  of  the  temptation  makes  an 
inroad  on  the  resolution,  and  gets  ground,  and  pre- 
vails against  it,  more  than  his  resolution  prevailed 
against  his  sin.  How  many  drunken  persons,  how 
many  swearers,  resolve  daily  and  hourly  against 
their  sins,  and  yet  act  them  not  once  the  less  for  all 
their  infinite  heap  of  shamefully-retreating  pur- 
poses !  That  resolution  that  begins  on  just  grounds 
of  sorrow  and  severe  judgment,  on  fear  and  love, 
that  is  made  in  the  midst  of  a  temptation,  that  is 
inquisitive  into  all  the  means  and  instruments  of 
the  cure,  that  prays  perpetually  against  a  sin,  that 
watches  continually  against  a  surprise,  and  never 
sinks  into  it  by  deliberation ;  that  rights  earnestly, 
and  carries  on  the  war  prudently,  and  prevails  by 
a  never-ceasing  diligence  against  the  temptation; 
that  only  is  a  pious  and  well-begun  repentance. 
They  that  have  their  fits  of  a  quartan,  well  and  ill 
for  ever,  and  think  themselves  in  perfect  health 
when  the  ague  is  retired,  till  its  period  returns,  are 
dangerously  mistaken.  Those,  intervals  of  imper- 
fect and  fallacious  resolution  are  nothing  but  states 
of  death :  and  if  a  man  should  depart  this  world 
in  one  of  those  godly  fits,  as  he  thinks  them,  he  is 
no  nearer  to  obtain  his  blessed  hope,  than  a  man 
in  the  stone-colic  is  to  health,  when  his  pain  is 
eased  for  the  present,  his  disease  still  remaining, 
and  threatening  an  unwelcome  return.    That  reso- 


118  ON    REPENTANCE. 

lution  only  is  the  beginning  of  a  holy  repentance, 
which  goes  forth  into  act,  and  whose  acts  enlarge 
into  habits,  and  whose  habits  are  productive  of 
the  fruits  of  a  holy  life. 

From  hence  we  are  to  take  our  estimate,  whence 
our  resolutions  of  piety  must  commence.  He  that 
resolves  not  to  live  well,  till  the  time  comes  that  he 
must  die,  is  ridiculous  in  his  great  design,  as  he  is 
impertinent  in  his  intermedial  purposes,  and  vain 
in  his  hope.  Can  a  dying  man  to  any  real  effect 
resolve  to  be  chaste  ?  For  virtue  must  be  an  act 
of  election,  and  chastity  is  the  contesting  against  a 
proud  and  an  imperious  lust,  active  flesh,  and  in- 
sinuating temptation.  And  what  doth  he  resolve 
against,  who  can  no  more  be  tempted  to  the  sin  of 
unchastity,  than  he  can  return  back  again  to  his 
youth  and  vigour  ?  And  it  is  considerable,  that  since 
all  the  purposes  of  a  holy  life  which  a  dying  man 
can  make,  cannot  be  reduced  to  act ;  by  what  law, 
or  reason,  or  covenant,  or  revelation,  are  we  taught 
to  distinguish  the  resolution  of  a  dying  man  from 
the  purposes  of  a  living  and  vigorous  person  ? 
Suppose  a  man  in  his  youth  and  health,  moved 
by  consideration  of  the  irregularity  and  deformity 
of  sin,  the  danger  of  its  productions,  the  wrath 
and  displeasure  of  Almighty-God,  should  resolve  to 
leave  the  puddles  of  impurity,  and  walk  in  the 
paths  of  righteousness ;  can  this  resolution  alone 
put  him  into  the  state  of  grace  ?  Is  he  admitted  to 
pardon  and  the  favour  of  God,  because  he  hath  in 
some  measure  performed  actually  what  he  so  rea- 
sonably hath  resolved  ?  by  no  means.  For  resolu- 
tion and  purpose  is,  in  its  own  nature  and  consti- 
tution, an  imperfect  act,  and  therefore  can  signify 
nothing  without  its  performance  and  consumma- 


BY  BISHOP  TAYLOR.  119 

tion.  It  is  as  a  faculty  is  to  the  act,  as  spring  is  to 
the  harvest,  as  seed-time  is  to  the  autumn,  as  eggs 
are  to  birds,  or  as  a  relative  to  its  correspondent ; 
nothing  without  it.  And  can  it  be  imagined  that 
a  resplution  in  our  health  and  life  shall  be  effectual 
without  performance.?  And  shall  a  resolution, 
barely  such,  do  any  good  on  our  death-bed  ?  Can 
such  purposes  prevail  against  a  long  impiety,  ra- 
ther than  against  a  young  and  a  newly-begun  state 
of  sin  ?  Will  God  at  an  easier  rate  pardon  the 
sins  of  fifty  or  sixty  years,  than  the  sins  of  our 
youth  only,  or  the  iniquity  of  five  years,  or  ten  ? 
If  a  holy  life  be  not  necessary  to  be  lived,  why  shall 
it  be  necessary  to  resolve  to  live  in  it  ?  But  if  a  holy 
life  be  ecessary,  then  it  cann  t  be  sufficient  merely 
to  resolve  it,  unless  this  resolution  go  forth  in  an 
actual  and  real  service.  Vain  therefore  is  the  hope 
of  those  persons,  who  either  go  on  in  their  sins  be- 
fore their  last  sickness,  never  thinking  to  return  into 
the  ways  of  God,  from  whence  they  have  wandered 
all  their  life,  never  renewing  their  resolutions  and 
vows  of  holy  living ;  or  if  they  have,  yet  their  pur- 
poses are  for  ever  blasted  with  the  next  violent 
temptation.  More  prudent  was  the  prayer  of  Da- 
vid :  '  Oh  spare  me  a  little,  that  I  may  recover  my 
strength,  before  I  go  hence  and  be  no  more  seen.' 
And  something  like  it  was  the  saying  of  the 
emperor  Charles  the  Fifth ;.  "  There  ought  to 
be  a  period  of  reflection,  between  the  active 
business  of  life,  and  the  day  of  our  death."' 
Whenever  our  holy  purposes  are  renewed,  unless 
God  give  us  time  to  act  them,  to  mortify  and  sub- 
due our  lusts,  to  conquer  and  subdue  the  whole 

1  Inter  vitae  negotia  et  mortis  diem  oportet  spatium  intercedere. 


120  ON   REPENTANCE. 

kingdom  of  sin,  to  rise  from  our  grave,  and  be 
clothed  with  nerves  and  flesh  and  a  new  skin, 
to  overcome  our  deadly  sicknesses,  and  by  little 
and  little  to  return  to  health  and  strength;  un- 
less we  have  grace  and  time  to  do  all  this,  our 
sins  will  lie  down  with  us  in  our  graves.  For 
when  a  man  hath  contracted  a  long  habit  of  sin, 
and  it  hath  been  growing  on  him  ten  or  twenty, 
forty  or  fifty  years,  whose  acts  he  hath  daily  or 
hourly  repeated,  and  they  are  grown  to  a  second 
nature  to  him, — and  have  so  prevailed  on  the  ruins 
of  his  spirit,  that  the  man  is  taken  captive  by  the 
devil  at  his  will,  he  is  fast  bound,  as  a  slave  tug- 
ging at  the  oar ;  that  he  is  grown  in  love  with  his 
fetters,  and  longs  to  be  doing  the  work  of  sin ; — is 
it  likely,  that  after  all  this  progress  and  growth  in 
sin,  in  the  ways  of  which  he  runs  fast  without 
any  impediment ; — is  it,  I  say,  likely,  that  a  few 
days  or  weeks  of  sickness  can  recover  him  ?  Can 
a  man  be  supposed  so  prompt  to  piety  and  holy 
living — a  man,  I  mean,  that  hath  lived  wickedly  a 
long  time  together — can  he  be  of  so  ready  and  ac- 
tive a  virtue  on  the  sudden,  as  to  recover,  in  a 
month  or  a  week,  what  he  hath  been  undoing  in 
twenty  or  thirty  years  ?  Is  it  so  easy  to  build, 
that  a  weak  and  infirm  person,  bound  hand  and 
foot,  shall  be  able  to  build  more  in  three  days  than 
was  a-building  above  forty  years  ?  Christ  did  it  in 
a  figurative  sense:  but  in  this,  it  is  not  in  the 
power  of  any  man  so  suddenly  to  be  recovered 
from  so  long  a  sickness.  Necessary  therefore  it  is 
that  all  these  instruments  of  our  conversion, — 
confession  of  sins,  praying  for  their  pardon,  and 
resolution  to  lead  a  new  life, — should  begin, '  before 
our  feet  stumble  on  the  dark  mountains ;'  lest  we 


BY   BISHOP   TAYLOR.  121 

leave  the  work  only  resolved  on  to  be  begun,  which  it 
is  necessary  we  should  in  many  degrees  finish,  if  ever 
we  mean  to  escape  the  eternal  darkness.  For  that 
we  should  actually  abolish  the  whole  body  of  sin 
and  death, — that  we  should  crucify  the  old  man  with 
his  lusts, — that  we  should  lay  aside  every  weight, 
and  the  sin  that  doth  so  easily  beset  us, — that  we 
should  cast  away  the  works  of  darkness, — that  we 
should  awake  from  sleep,  and  arise  from  death, — 
that  we  should  redeem  the  time, — that  we  should 
cleanse  our  hands  and  purify  our  hearts, — that  we 
should  have  escaped  the  corruption  (all  the  cor- 
ruption) that  is  in  the  whole  world  through  lust, — 
that  nothing  of  the  old  leaven  should  remain  in 
us, — but  that  we  be  wholly  a  new  lump,  thoroughly 
transformed  and  changed  in  the  image  of  our  mind; 
--■these  are  the  perpetual  precepts  of  the  Spirit,  and 
the  certain  duty  of  man ;  and  that  to  have  all  these 
in  purpose  only,  is  merely  to  no  purpose,  without 
the  actual  eradication  of  every  vicious  habit,  and 
the  certain  abolition  of  every  criminal  adherence, 
—is  clearly  and  dogmatically  decreed  every  where 
in  the  Scripture.  *  For,  (they  are  the  words  of  St. 
Paul)  '  they  that  are  Christ's,  have  crucified  the 
flesh,  with  the  affections  and  lusts ;' l  the  work  is 
actually  done,  and  sin  is  dead  or  wounded  mor- 
tally, before  they  can  in  any  sense  belong  to 
Christ,  to  be  a  portion  of  his  inheritance  :  and  '  He 
that  is  in  Christ,  is  a  new  creature.'*  For  '  in 
Christ  Jesus  nothing  can  avail  but  a  new  crea- 
ture;'3 nothing  but  a  'keeping  the  command- 
ments of  God.'4  Not  all  tears,  though  we 
should  weep  like  David  and  his  men  at  Ziklag, 

1  Gal.v.  24.  2  lb.  vi.  15.  3  lb.  v.  6. 

1  Cor.  vii.  19. 


122  ON    REPENTANCE. 

'  till  they  could  weep  no  more/  or  the  women  of 
Ramah,  or  like  ■  the  weeping  in  the  valley  of  Hin- 
nom,'  could  suffice,  if  we  retain  the  affection  to 
any  one  sin,  or  have  any  unrepented  of  or  unmor- 
tified.  It  is  true  that  '  a  contrite  and  a  broken 
heart  God  will  not  despise :'  no,  he  will  not.  For 
if  it  be  a  hearty  and  permanent  sorrow,  it  is  an  ex- 
cellent beginning  of  repentance ;  and  God  will  to 
a  timely  sorrow  give  the  grace  of  repentance :  he 
will  not  give  pardon  to  sorrow  alone;  but  that 
which  ought  to  be  the  proper  effect  of  sorrow,  that 
God  shall  give.  He  shall  then  open  the  gates  of 
mercy,  and  admit  you  to  a  possibility  of  restitu- 
tion :  so  that  you  may  be  within  the  covenant  of 
repentance,  which  if  you  actually  perform,  you  may 
expect  God's  promise.  And  in  this  sense  confes- 
sion will  obtain  our  pardon,  and  humiliation  will 
be  accepted,  and  our  holy  purposes  and  pious  re- 
solutions shall  be  accounted  for ;  that  is,  these  be- 
ing the  first  steps  and  addresses  to  that  part  o. 
repentance  which  consists  in  the  abolition  of  sins, 
shall  be  accepted  so  far  as  to  procure  so  much 
of  the  pardon,  to  do  so  much  of  the  work  of 
restitution,  that  God  will  admit  the  returning 
man  to  a  further  degree  of  emendation,  to  a  nearer 
possibility  of  working  out  his  salvation.  But 
then,  if  this  sorrow  and  confession,  and  these 
strong  purposes,  begin  then  when  our  life  is  de- 
clined towards  the  west,  and  is  now  ready  to  set  in 
darkness  and  a  dismal  night ;  because  of  them- 
selves they  could  but  procure  an  admission  to  re- 
pentance, not  at  all  to  pardon  and  plenary  absolu- 
tion, by  showing  that  on  our  death-bed  these  are 
too  late  and  ineffectual,  they  call  on  us  to  begin 
betimes,  when  these  imperfect  acts  may  be  con- 


BY    BISHOP   TAYLOR.  123 

summate  and  perfect  in  the  actual  performing  those 
parts  of  holy  life,  to  which  they  were  ordained  in 
the  nature  of  the  thing,  and  the  purposes  of  God. 

4.  Lastly,  suppose  all  this  be  done,  and  that  by 
a  long  course  of  strictness  and  severity,  mortifica- 
tion and  circumspection,  we  have  overcome  all  our 
vicious  and  baser  habits ;  suppose  that  he  hath 
wept  and  fasted,  prayed  and  vowed  to  excellent 
purposes;  yet  all  this  is  but  the  one  half  of  re- 
pentance, so  infinitely  mistaken  is  the  world,  to 
think  any  thing  to  be  enough  to  make  up  re- 
pentance. But  to  renew  us,  and  restore  us  to  the 
favour  of  God,  there  is  required  far  more  than 
what  hath  been  yet  accounted  for.  See  it  in  2  Pet. 
i.  4,  5.  '  Having  escaped  the  corruption  that  is  in 
the  world  through  lust :  and  besides  this,  giving 
all  diligence,  add  to  your  faith  virtue,  to  virtue 
knowledge,  to  knowledge  temperance,  to  tempe- 
rance patience,'  and  so  on, '  to  godliness,  to  brotherly 
kindness,  and  to  charity :  these  things  must  be  in 
you  and  abound.  This  is  the  sum  total  of  repent- 
ance :  we  must  not  only  have  overcome  sin,  but 
we  must,  after  great  diligence,  have  acquired  the 
habits  of  all  those  Christian  graces,  which  are  ne- 
cessary in  the  transaction  of  our  affairs,  in  all  rela- 
tions to  God  and  our  neighbour,  and  our  own  per- 
sons. It  is  not  enough  to  say,  'Lord,  I  thank 
thee,  I  am  no  extortioner,  no  adulterer,  not  as  this 
publican  : '  all  the  reward  of  such  a  penitent  is, 
that  when  he  hath  escaped  the  corruption  of  the 
world,  he  hath  also  escaped  those  heavy  judgments 
which  threatened  his  ruin.  It  may  be,  we  have 
escaped  the  rod  of  the  exterminating  angel,  when 
our  sins  are  crucified  :  but  we  shall  never  ■  enter 
into  the  joy  of  the  Lord,'  unless,  after  we  have  '  put 


1^4  ON  REPENTANCE. 

off  the  old  man  with  his  affections  and  lusts,'  we 
also  'put  on  the  new  man  in  righteousness  and  ho- 
liness of  life.' l  And  this  we  are  taught  in  most 
plain  doctrine  by  St.  Paul  :  *  L<et  us  lay  aside  the 
weight  that  doth  so  easily  beset  us;'  that  is  the 
one  half :  and  then  it  follows,  'Let  us  run  with 
patience  the  race  that  is  set  before  us.'  These  are 
the  '  fruits  meet  for  repentance,'  spoken  of  by  St. 
John  Baptist ;  that  is,  when  we  renew  our  first  un- 
dertaking in  baptism,  and  return  to  our  course  of 
jnnocence. 

"Parcus  Deorum  cultor  et  infrequens, 
Insanientis  dum  sapientiae 

Consultus  erro,  nunc  retrorsum 
Vela  dare,  atque  iterare  cursus 
Cogor  relictos."  * 

The  sense  of  which  words  is  well  given  us  by  St. 
John  :  ■  Remember  whence  thou  art  fallen  ;  repent, 
and  do  thy  first  works.'3  For  all  our  hopes  of  hea- 
ven rely  on  that  covenant  which  God  made  with 
us  in  baptism ;  which  is,  '  that  being  redeemed 
from  our  vain  conversation,  we  should  serve  him  in 
holiness  and  righteousness  all  our  days.'  Now 
when  any  of  us  hath  prevaricated  our  part  of  the 
covenant,  we  must  return  to  that  state,  and  redeem 
the  intermedial  time  spent  in  sin,  by  our  doubled 
industry  in  the  ways  of  grace  :  we  must  be  reduced 
to  our  first  estate,  and  make  some  proportionable 
returns  of  duty  for  our  sad  omissions,  and  great 
violations  of  our  baptismal  vow.  For  God  having 
made  no  covenant  with  us  but  that  which  is  con- 
signed in  baptism ;  in  the  same  proportion  in  which 
we  retain  or  return  to  that,  in  the  same  we  are  to 

»  Heb.  xii.  1.  *  Hor.  Od.i.34.  1.  Revel,  ii. 


BY  BISHOP  TAYLOR.  125 

expect  the  pardon  of  our  sins,  and  all  the  other 
promises  evangelical ;  but  no  otherwise,  unless  we 
can  show  a  new  gospel,  or  be  baptized  again  by 
God's  appointment.  He,  therefore,  that  by  a  long 
habit,  by  a  state  and  continued  course  of  sin,  hath 
gone  so  far  from  his  baptismal  purity,  as  that  he 
hath  nothing  of  the  Christian  left  on  him  but  his 
name;  that  man  hath  much  to  do  to  make  his  gar- 
ments clean,  to  purify  his  soul,  to  take  off  all  the 
stains  of  sin,  that  his  spirit  may  be  presented  pure 
to  the  eyes  of  God,  who  beholds  no  impurity.  It 
is  not  an  easy  thing  to  cure  a  long-contracted  habit 
of  sin.  Let  any  intemperate  person  but  try  in  his 
own  instance  of  drunkenness;  or  the  swearer,  in 
the  sweetening  his  unwholesome  language :  but 
then  so  to  command  his  tongue  that  he  never  swear, 
but  that  his  speech  be  prudent,  pious,  and  apt  to 
edify  the  hearer,  or  in  some  sense  to  glorify  God ; 
or  to  become  temperate,  to  have  got  a  habit  of  so- 
briety, or  chastity,  or  humility,  is  the  work  of  a 
life.  And  if  we  do  but  consider,  that  he  that  lives 
well  from  his  younger  years,  or  takes  up  at  the  end 
of  his  youthful  heats,  and  enters  into  the  courses  of 
a  sober  life  early,  diligently,  and  vigorously,  shall 
find  himself,  after  the  studies  and  labours  of  twenty 
or  thirty  years'  piety,  but  a  very  imperfect  person, 
many  degrees  of  pride  left  unrooted  up,  many  in- 
roads of  intemperance  or  beginnings  of  excess, 
much  indevotion  and  backwardness  in  religion, 
many  temptations  to  contest  against,  and  some  in- 
firmities which  he  shall  never  say  he  hath  mas- 
tered; we  shall  find  the  work  of  a  holy  life  is  not 
to  be  deferred  till  our  days  are  almost  done,  till  our 
strengths  are  decayed,  our  spirits  are  weak,  and 
our  lust  strong,  our  habits  confirmed,  and  our  long- 


126  ON    REPENTANCE. 

ings  after  sin  many  and  impotent:  for  what  is 
very  hard  to  be  done,  and  is  always  done  imper- 
fectly, when  there  is  length  of  time,  and  a  less 
work  to  do,  and  more  abilities  to  do  it  withal; 
when  the  time  is  short,  and  almost  expired,  and 
the  work  made  difficult  and  vast,  and  the  strengths 
weaker,  and  the  faculties  are  disabled,  will  seem  little 
less  than  absolutely  impossible.  I  shall  end  this  ge- 
neral consideration  with  the  question  of  the  apostle : 
1  If  the  righteous  scarcely  be  saved,'  if  it  be  so  dif- 
ficult to  overcome  our  sins,  and  obtain  virtuous 
fiabits  ;  difficult,  I  say,  to  a  righteous,  a  sober,  and 
well-living  person  ;  '  where  shall  the  ungodly  and 
the  sinner  appear  ? '  what  shall  become  of  him, 
who,  by  his  evil  life,  hath  not, only  removed  him- 
self from  the  affections,  but  even  from  the  possibi- 
lities of  virtue  ?  He  that  hath  lived  in  sin,  will 
die  in  sorrow. 


SERMON  VII. 
ON    SELF-DENIAL 

BY  THB 

REV.  JOHN  WESLEY,  M.  A. 


[Johh  Wesley,  bom  1703,  died  1791.] 


SERMON   VII 


Luke,  ix.  23. 

And  he  said  unto  them  all,  If  any  man  will  come 
after  me,  let  him  deny  himself,  and  take  up  his 
cross  daily,  and  follow  me. 

It  has  been  frequently  imagined,  that  the  direc- 
tion here  given  related  chiefly,  if  not  wholly,  to  the 
apostles ;  at  least  to  the  Christians  of  the  first  ages, 
or  those  in  a  state  of  persecution.  But  this  is  a 
grievous  mistake  :  for,  although  our  blessed  Lord 
is  here  directing  his  discourse  more  immediately  to 
his  apostles,  and  those  other  disciples  who  attended 
him  in  the  days  of  his  flesh  ;  yet  in  them  he  speaks 
to  us,  and  to  all  mankind,  without  any  exception  or 
limitation.  The  very  reason  of  the  thing  puts  it 
beyond  dispute,  that  the  duty  which  is  here  en- 
joined is  not  peculiar  to  them,  or  to  the  Christians 
of  the  early  ages.  It  no  more  regards  any  parti- 
cular order  of  men,  or  particular  time,  than  any 
particular  country.  No :  it  is  of  the  most  uni- 
versal nature,  respecting  all  times  and  all  persons. 
Yea,  and  all  things  :  not  meats  and  drinks  only,  and 

K 


130  ON    SELF-DENIAL. 

things  pertaining  to  the  senses.  The  meaning  is,  if 
any  man,  of  whatever  rank,  station,  circumstances, 
in  any  nation,  in  any  age  of  the  world,  will  effec- 
tually come  after  me,  let  him  deny  himself  in  all 
things;  'let  him  take  up  his  cross/  of  whatever 
kind,  yea,  and  that  «  daily,  and  follow  me.' 

The  ■  denying  ourselves,'  .and  the  *  taking  up  our 
cross,'  in  the  full  extent  of  the  expression,  is  not  a 
thing  of  small  concern  :  it  is  not  expedient  only,  as 
are  some  of  the  circumstantials  of  religion ;  but  it 
is  absolutely,  indispensably  necessary,  either  to  our 
becoming,  or  continuing  his  disciples.  It  is  abso- 
lutely necessary,. in  the  very  nature  of  the  thing,  to 
our  '  coming  after  him,'  and  '  following  him."  Inso- 
much that,  as  far  as  we  do  not  practise  it,  we  are  not 
his  disciples.  If  we  do  not  continually  deny  our- 
selves, we  do  not  learn  of  him,  but  of  other  masters. 
If  we  do  not  take  up  our  cross  daily,  we  do  not 
come  after  him,  but  after  the  world,  or  the  prince 
of  the  world,  or  our  own  fleshly  mind.  If  we  are 
not  walking  in  the  way  of  the  cross,  we  are  not 
following  him,  we  are  not  treading  in  his  steps, 
but  going  back  from,  or  at  least  wide  of  him. 

It  is  for  this  reason  that  so  many  ministers  of 
Christ,  in  almost  every  age  and  nation,  particularly 
since  the  reformation  of  the  church  from  the  inno- 
vations and  corruptions  which  had  gradually  crept 
into  it,  have  wrote  and  spoke  so  largely  on  this  im- 
portant duty,  both  in  their  public  discourses  and 
private  exhortations.  This  induced  them  to  dis- 
perse abroad  many  tracts  upon  the  subject;  and 
some  in  our  nation.  They  knew  both  from  the 
oracles  of  God,  and  from  the  testimony  of  their 
own  experience,  how  impossible  it  is  not  to  deny 
our  Master,  unless  we  will  deny  ourselves;  and 


BY   THE    REV.   JOHN   WESLEY.  131 

how  vainly  we  attempt   to   follow  him   that  was 
crucified,  unless  we  take  up  our  own  cross  daily. 

But  may  not  this  very  consideration  make  it 
reasonable  to  inquire,  if  so  much  has  been  said  and 
wrote  on  the  subject  already,  what  need  is  there  to 
say  or  write  any  more  ?  I  answer :  There  are  con- 
siderable numbers,  even  of  people  fearing  God, 
who  have  not  had  the  opportunity  either  of  hear- 
ing what  has  been  spoken,  or  reading  what  has 
been  written  upon  it.  And  perhaps  if  they  had 
read  much  of  what  has  been  written,  tbey  would 
not  have  been  much  profited.  Many  who  have 
wrote,  (some  of  them  large  volumes,)  do  by  no 
means  appear  to  have  understood  the  subject. 
Either  they  had  imperfect  views  of  the  very  nature 
of  it,  (and  then  they  could  never  explain  it  to 
others,)  or  they  were  unacquainted  with  the  due 
extent  of  it ;  they  did  not  see  how  exceeding  broad 
this  command  is :  or  they  were  not  sensible  of  the 
absolute,  the  indispensable  necessity  of  it.  Others 
speak  of  it  in  so  dark,  so  perplexed,  so  intricate,  so 
mystical  a  manner,  as  if  they  deigned  rather  to 
conceal  it  from  the  vulgar,  than  to  explain  it  to 
common  readers.  Others  speak  admirably  well, 
with  great  clearness  and  strength,  on  the  necessity 
of  self-denial ;  but  then  they  deal  in  generals  only, 
without  coming  to  particular  instances,  and  so  are 
of  little  use  to  the  bulk  of  mankind,  to  men  of  ordi- 
nary capacity  and  education.  And  if  some  of 
them  do  descend  to  particulars,  it  is  to  those  par- 
ticulars only  which  do  not  affect  the  generality  of 
men ;  since  they  seldom,  if  ever,  occur  in  common 
life:  such  as  the  enduring  imprisonment,  or  tor- 
tures ;  the  giving  up,  in  a  literal  sense,  their  houses 
or  lands,  their   husbands  or   wives,   children,  or 

K  2 


132  ON    SELF-DENIAL. 

life  itself :  to  none  of  which  we  are  called,  nor  are 
likely  to  be,  unless  God  should  permit  times  of 
public  persecution  to  return.  In  the  meantime,  I 
know  of  no  writer  in  the  English  tongue,  who  has 
described  the  nature  of  self-denial  in  plain  and  in- 
telligible terms,  such  as  lie  level  with  common  un- 
derstandings, and  applied  it  to  those  little  particu- 
lars which  daily  occur  in  common  life.  A  dis- 
course of  this  kind  is  wanted  still ;  and  it  is  wanted 
the  more,  because  in  every  stage  of  the  spiritual 
life,  although  there  is  a  variety  of  particular  hin- 
derances  of  our  attaining  grace,  or  growing  therein, 
yet  are  they  all  resolvable  into  these  general  ones : 
— either  we  do  not  deny  ourselves,  or  we  do  not 
take  up  our  cross. 

In  order  to  supply  this  defect  in  some  degree,  I 
shall  endeavour  to  show,  first,  What  it  is  for  a 
man  to  deny  himself,  and  what  to  take  up  his 
cross :  and,  secondly,  That  if  a  man  be  not  fully 
Christ's  disciple,  it  is  always  owing  to  the  want  of 
this. 

I.  I  shall,  first,  endeavour  to  show  what  it  is  for 
a  man  to  deny  himself,  and  take  up  his  cross  daily. 
This  is  a  point,  which  is  of  all  others  most  neces- 
sary to  be  considered,  and  thoroughly  understood, 
even  on  this  account,  that  it  is  of  all  others  most 
opposed  by  numerous  and  powerful  enemies.  All 
our  nature  must  certainly  rise  up  against  this,  even 
in  its  own  defence :  the  world,  consequently,  the 
men  who  take  nature,  not  grace,  for  their  guide, 
abhor  the  very  sound  of  it.  And  the  great  enemy 
of  our  souls,  well  knowing  its  importance,  cannot 
but  move  every  stone  against  it.  But  this  is  not 
all :  even  those,  who  have  in  some  measure  shaken 
off  the  yoke  of  the  devil,  who  have  experienced 


BY    THE    REV.    JOHN    WESLEY.  133 

a  real  work  of  grace  in  their  hearts,  yet  are  no 
friends  to  this  grand  doctrine  of  Christianity, 
though  it  is  so  peculiarly  insisted  on  by  their 
Master.  Some  of  them  are  as  deeply  and  totally 
ignorant  concerning  it,  as  if  there  were  not  one 
word  about  it  in  the  Bible.  Others  are  further 
off  still,  having  unawares  imbibed  strong  preju- 
dices against  it.  These  they  have  received  partly 
from  outside  Christians ;  men  of  a  fair  speech  and 
behaviour,  who  want  nothing  of  godliness  but  the 
power,  nothing  of  religion  but  the  spirit;  and 
partly  from  those  who  did  once,  if  they  do  not 
now,  "  taste  of  the  powers  of  the  world  to  come." 
But,  are  there  any  of  these  who  do  not  both  prac- 
tise self-denial  themselves,  and  recommend  it  to 
others  ?  You  are  little  acquainted  with  mankind, 
if  you  doubt  of  this.  There  are  whole  bodies  of 
men,  who  only  do  not  declare  war  against  it.  To 
go  no  further  than  ourown  neighbourhood, I  might 
point  out  more  than  one  body  of  Christians,  pro- 
fessing to  enjoy  a  peculiar  light  of  faith,  few  of 
whom  even  profess  to  practise  it  all ;  few  of  whom 
either  recommend  it  themselves,  or  are  pleased  with 
with  them  that  do.  Rather,  do  they  not  continually 
represent  it  in  the  most  odious  colours,  as  if  it  were 
seeking  "  salvation  by  works,"  or  "  seeking  to  esta- 
blish our  own  righteousness."  Therefore,  you  are  in 
constant  danger  of  being  wheedled,  hectored,  or  ridi- 
culed out  of  this  important  gospel-doctrine,  either 
by  false  teachers,  or  false  brethren,  (more  or  less 
beguiled  from  the  simplicity  of  the  gospel,)  if  you 
are  not  deeply  grounded  therein.  Let  fervent 
prayer  then  go  before,  accompany,  and  follow  what 
you  are  now  about  to  read   that  it  may  be  written 


134  ON    SELF-DENIAL. 

in  your  heart  by  the  finger  of  God,  so  as  never  to 
be  erased. 

But  what  is  self-denial  ?  Wherein  are  we  to 
deny  ourselves?  And  whence  does  the  necessity 
of  this  arise  ?  I  answer — the  will  of  God  is  the 
supreme,  unalterable  rule  for  every  intelligent 
creature ;  equally  binding  every  angel  in  heaven, 
and  every  man  upon  earth.  Nor  can  it  be  other- 
wise ;  this  is  the  natural,  necessary  result  of  the 
relation  between  creatures  and  their  Creator.  But 
if  the  will  of  God  be  our  one  rule  of  action  in  every 
thing,  great  and  small,  it  follows  by  undeniable 
consequence,  that  we  are  not  to  do  our  own  will  in 
any  thing.  Here,  therefore,  we  see  at  once  the  na- 
ture, with  the  ground  and  reason  of  self-denial. 
We  see  the  nature  of  self-denial :  it  is  the  denying 
or  refusing  to  follow  our  own  will,  from  a  convic- 
tion that  the  will  of  God  is  the  only  rule  of  action 
to  us.  And  we  see  the  reason  thereof,  because  we 
are  creatures ;  '  because  it  is  he  that  hath  made  us, 
and  not  we  ourselves.' 

This  reason  for  self-denial,  must  hold  even 
with  regard  to  the  angels  of  God  in  heaven ;  and 
with  regard  to  man,  innocent  and  holy  as  he  came 
out  of  the  hands  of  his  Creator.  But  a  further  rea- 
son for  it  arises  from  the  condition  wherein  all  men 
are  since  the  fall.  We  are  all  now  "  shapen  in 
wickedness,  and  in  sin  did  our  mother  conceive  us." 
Our  nature  is  altogether  corrupt,  in  every  power 
and  faculty.  And  our  will,  depraved  equally  with 
the  rest,  is  wholly  bent  to  indulge  our  natural  cor- 
ruption. On  the  other  hand,  it  is  the  will  of  God 
that  we  resist  and  counteract  that  corruption,  not 
at  some  times,  or  in  some  things  only,  but  at  ail 


BY    THE    REV.   JOHN    WESLEY.  135 

times,  and  in  all  things.  Here,  therefore,  is  a 
further  ground  for  constant  and  universal  self-de- 
nial. 

To  illustrate  this  a  little  further.  The  will  of 
God  is  a  path  leading  straight  to  God.  The  will  of 
man,  which  once  ran  parallel  with  it,  is  now  another 
path,  not  only  different  from  it,  but,  in  our  present 
state,  directly  contrary  to  it:  it  leads  from  God. 
If,  therefore,  we  walk  in  the  one,  we  must  necessa- 
sarily  quit  the  other.  We  cannot  walk  in  both. 
Indeed,  a  man  of  faint  heart  and  feeble  hands  may 
go  in  two  ways,  one  after  the  other.  But  he  can- 
not walk  in  two  ways  at  the  same  time ;  he  cannot, 
at  one  and  the  same  time,  follow  his  own  will,  and 
follow  the  will  of  God  :  he  must  choose  the  one  or 
the  other;  denying  God's  will,  to  follow  his  own; 
or  denying  himself,  to  follow  the  will  of  God. 

Now,  it  is  undoubtedly  pleasing,  for  the  time, 
to  follow  our  own  will,  by  indulging,  in  any  in- 
stance that  offers,  the  corruption  of  our  nature. 
But  by  following  it  in  any  thing,  we  so  far  strengthen 
the  perverseness  of  our  will ;  and  by  indulging  it, 
we  continually  increase  the  corruption  of  our  na- 
ture. So  by  the  food,  which  is  agreeable  to  the 
palate,  we  often  increase  a  bodily  disease.  It  gra- 
tifies the  taste,  but  ft  inflames  the  disorder.  It 
brings  pleasure,  but  it  also  brings  death. 

On  the  whole,  then,  to  deny  ourselves,  is,  to 
deny  our  own  will,  where  it  does  not  fall  in  with 
the  will  of  God,  and  that  however  pleasing  it  may 
be.  It  is  to  deny  ourselves  any  pleasure  which 
does  not  spring  from,  and  lead  to  God  :  that  is,  in 
effect,  to  refuse  going  out  of  our  way,  though  into  a 
pleasant,  flowery  path  ;  to  refuse  what  we  know  to 
be  deadlv  poison,  though  agreeable  to  the  taste. 


136  ON    SELF-DENIAL. 

And  every  one  that  would  follow  Christ,  that 
would  be  his  real  disciple,  must  not  only  •  deny 
himself,'  but  'take  up  his  cross'  also.  A  cross  is  any 
thing  contrary  to  our  will,  any  thing  displeasing 
to  our  nature.  So  that  taking  up  our  cross  ^goes  a 
little  further  than  denying  ourselves;  it  rises  a  lit- 
tle higher,  and  is  a  more  difficult  task  to  flesh  and 
blood  ;  it  being  more  easy  to*  forego  pleasure  than 
to  endure  pain. 

Now,  in  running  the  race  which  is  set  before 
us,  according  to  the  will  of  God,  there  is  often  a 
cross  lying  in  the  way ;  that  is,  something  which 
is  not  only  not  joyous,  but  grievous;  something 
which  is  contrary  to  our  will,  which  is  displeasing 
to  our  nature.  What  then  is  to  be  done  ?  The  choice 
is  plain :  either  we  must  take  up  our  cross,  or  we 
must  turn  aside  from  the  way  of  God — from  the 
holy  commandment  delivered  to  us  ;  if  we  do  not 
stop  altogether,  or  turn  back  to  everlasting  perdition. 

In  order  to  the  healing  of  that  corruption, 
that  evil  disease,  which  every  man  brings  with  him 
into  the  world,  it  is  often  needful  to  pluck  out,  as 
it  were,  a  right  eye,  to  cut  off  a  right  hand ;  so 
painful  is  either  the  thing  itself  which  must  be 
done,  or  the  only  means  of  doing  it :  the  parting, 
suppose,  with  a  foolish  desire,  with  an  inordinate 
affection;  or  a  separation  from  the  object  of  it, 
without  which  it  can  never  be  extinguished.  In 
the  former  kind,  the  tearing  away  such  a  desire  or 
affection,  when  it  is  deeply  rooted  in  the  soul,  is 
often  like  the  piercing  of  a  sword,  yea,  like  '  the 
dividing  asunder  of  the  soul  and  spirit,  the  joints 
and  marrow.'1     The  Lord  then  ■  sits*  upon  the  soul 

1  Heb.  iv.  12. 


BY   THE    REV.   JOHN   WESLEY.  137 

'as  a  refiner's  fire/  to  burn  up  all  the  dross  thereof 
And  this  is  a  cross  indeed ;  it  is  essentially  pain- 
ful ;  it  must  be  so  in  the  very  nature  of  the  thing. 
The  soul  cannot  be  thus  torn  asunder,  it  cannot 
pass  through  the  fire,  without  pain. 

In  the  latter  kind,  the  means  to  heal  a  sin- 
sick  soul,  to  cure  a  foolish  desire,  an  inordinate 
affection,  are  often  painful,  not  in  the  nature  of  the 
thing,  but  from  the  nature  of  the  disease.  So 
when  our  Lord  said  to  the  rich  young  man,  e  Go, 
sell  that  thou  hast,  and  give  it  to  the  poor,'  (as 
well  knowing  this  was  the  only  means  of  healing 
his  covetousness,)  the  very  thought  of  it  gave  him 
so  much  pain,  that  '  he  went  away  sorrowful ;' 
choosing  rather  to  part  with  his  hope  of  heaven, 
than  his  possessions  on  earth.  This  was  a  burden 
he  could  not  consent  to  lift,  a  cross  he  would  not 
take  up.  And  in  the  one  kind,  or  the  other,  every 
follower  of  Christ  will  surely  have  need  to  *  take  up 
his  cross  daily.' 

The  taking  up  differs  a  little  from  bearing 
his  cross.  We  are  then  properly  said  to  bear  our 
cross,  when  we  endure  what  is  laid  upon  us  with- 
out our  choice,  with  meekness  and  resignation. 
Whereas  we  do  not  properly  take  up  our  cross 
but  when  we  voluntarily  suffer  what  is  in  our  power 
to  avoid ;  when  we  willingly  embrace  the  will  of 
God,  though  contrary  to  our  own ;  when  we  choose 
what  is  painful,  because  it  is  the  will  of  our  wise 
and  gracious  Creator. 

And  thus  it  behoves  every  disciple  of  Christ  to 
'  take  up,'  as  well  as  to  bear  his  cross.  Indeed,  in 
one  sense,  it  is  not  his  alone :  it  is  common  to  him 
and  many  others ;  seeing *  there  is  no  temptation  befals 
any  man,  ki  /iri  avOpwirivog,  but  such  as  is  common  to 


138  ON    SELF-DENIAL. 

men;'  such  as  is  incident  and  adapted  to  their 
common  nature  and  situation  in  the  present  world. 
But  in  another  sense,  as  it  is  considered  with  all  its 
circumstances,  it  is  his;  peculiar  to  himself:  it  is 
prepared  of- God  for  him;  it  is  given  by  God  to 
him  as  a  token  of  his  love.  And  if  he  receives  it 
as  such,  and,  after  using  such  means  to  remove  the 
pressure  as  Christian  wisdom  directs,  lies,  as  clay  in 
the  potter's  hand ;  it  is  disposed  and  ordered  by 
God  for  his  good,  both  with  regard  to  the  quality 
of  it,  and  in  respect  to  its  quantity  and  degree,  its 
duration,  and  every  other  circumstance. 

In  all  this  we  may  easily  conceive  our  blessed 
Lord  to  act  as  the  physician  of  our  souls,  not 
merely  '  for  his  own  pleasure,  but  for  our  profit, 
that  we  may  be  partakers  of  his  holiness.' x  If  in 
searching  our  wounds,  he  puts  us  to  pain,  it  is  only 
in  order  to  heal  them.  He  cuts  away  what  is  pu- 
trefied or  unsound,  in  order  to  preserve  the  sound 
part.  And  if  we  freely  choose  the  loss  of  a  limb, 
rather  than  that  the  whole  body  should  perish,  how 
much  more  should  we  choose,  figuratively,  to  cut 
off  a  right  hand,  rather  than  that  the  whole  soul 
should  be  cast  into  hell  ? 

We  see  plainly,  then,*  both  the  nature  and 
ground  of  •  taking  up  our  cross.'  It  does  not  imply 
the  'disciplining  ourselves/  (as  some  speak,)  the 
literally  tearing  our  own  flesh ;  the  wearing  hair- 
cloth, or  iron  girdles,  or  any  thing  else  that  would 
impair  our  bodily  health;  (although  we  know  not 
what  allowance  God  may  make  for  those  who  act 
thus  through  involuntary  ignorance;)  but  the  em- 
bracing the  will  of  God,  though  contrary  to  our 

»  Heb.  xii.  10. 


BY   THE   REV.   JOHN    WESLEY.  139 

own ;  the  choosing  wholesome,  though  bitter  medi- 
cines; the  freely  accepting  temporary  pain,  of 
whatever  kind,  and  in  whatever  degree,  when  it  is 
either  essentially  or  accidentally  necessary  to  eter- 
nal pleasure. 

II.  I  am,  secondly,  to  show,  that  it  is  always 
owing  to  the  want  either  of  self-denial,  or  taking 
up  his  cross,  that  any  man  does  not  thoroughly 
follow  him,  is  not  fully  a  disciple  of  Christ. 

It  is  true,  this  may  be  partly  owing,  in  some 
cases,  to  the  want  of  the  means  of  grace ;  of  hear- 
ing the  true  word  of  God  spoken  with  power;  of 
the  sacraments,  or  of  Christian  fellowship.  But 
where  none  of  these  is  wanting,  the  great  hin- 
derance  of  our  receiving,  or  growing  in,  the  grace  of 
God,  is  always  the  want  of  denying  ourselves,  or 
taking  up  our  cross. 

A  few  instances  will  make  this  plain.  A 
man  hears  the  word,  which  is  able  to  save  his  soul. 
He  is  well  pleased  with  what  he  hears,  acknow- 
ledges the  truth,  and  is  a  little  affected  by  it.  Yet 
he  remains  c  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins/  senseless 
and  unawakened.  Why  is  this  ?  Because  he  will 
not  part  with  his  bosom  sin,  though  he  knows  it  is 
an  abomination  to  the  Lord.  He  came  to  hear, 
full  of  lust  and  unholy  desires ;  and  he  will  not 
part  with  them.  Therefore,  no  deep  impression 
is  made  upon  him ;  but  his  foolish  heart  is  still 
hardened ;  that  is,  he  is  still  senseless  and  un- 
awakened, because  he  will  not  deny  himself. 

Suppose  he  begins  to  awake  out  of  sleep,  and 
his  eyes  are  a  little  opened,  why  are  they  so 
quickly  closed  again  ?  Why  does  he  again  sink 
into  the  deep  sleep  of  death  ?  Because  he  again 
yields  to  his  bosom  sin ;  he  drinks  again   of  the 


l40  ON    SELF-DENIAL. 

pleasing  poison ;  therefore  it  is  impossible  that  any 
lasting  impression  should  be  made  upon  his  heart; 
that  is,  he  relapses  into  his  fatal  insensibility,  be- 
cause he  will  not  deny  himself. 

But  this  is  not  the  case  with  all.  We  have 
many  instances  of  those  who,  when  once  awakened, 
sleep  no  more.  The  impressions,  once  received, 
do  not  wear  away :  they  are  not  only  deep,  but 
lasting.  And  yet,  many  of  these  have  not  found 
what  they  seek  :  they  mourn,  and  yet  are  not  com- 
forted. Now,  why  is  this  ?  It  is  because  they  do 
not '  bring  forth  fruits  meet  for  repentance ;' l  be- 
cause they  do  not,  according  to  the  grace  they 
have  received,  ■  cease  from  evil,  and  do  good.'  They 
do  not  cease  from  the  easily-besetting  sin ;  the  sin 
of  their  constitution,  of  their  education,  or  of  their 
profession.  Or  they  omit  doing  the  good  they 
may,  and  know  they  ought  to  do,  because  of  some 
disagreeable  circumstance  attending  it;  that  is, 
they  do  not  attain  faith,  because  they  will  not  '  de- 
ny themselves,  or  take  up  their  cross/ 

But  this  man  did  receive  'the  heavenly  gift; 
he  did  *■  taste  of  the  powers  of  the  world  to  come.'8 
He  saw  '  the  light  of  the  glory  of  God,  in  the  face 
of  Jesus  Christ.* 3  The  *"peace  which  passeth  all 
understanding,'  did  'rule his  heart  and  mind;'4  and 
the  love  of  God  was  shed  abroad  therein  by  the 
Holy  Ghost  which  was  given  unto  him.'5  Yet  he 
is  now  weak  as  another  man.  He  again  relishes 
the  things  of  earth,  and  has  more  taste  for  the 
things  which  are  seen,  than  for  those  which  are  not 
seen.    The  eye  of  his  understanding  is  closed  again, 

1  Matt.  iii.  8.  *  Heb.  vi.  4,  5. 

3  2  Cor.  iv.  6.  4  Phil.  iv.  7« 

5  Rom.  v.  5. 


BY  THE   REV.   JOHN   WESLEY.  141 

so  that  he  cannot '  see  him  that  is  invisible.' l  His 
love  is  waxed  cold,  and  the  peace  of  God  no  longer 
rules  in  his  heart.  And  no  marvel ;  for  he  has 
again  given  place  to  the  devil,  and  grieved  the 
Holy  Spirit  of  God.  He  has  turned  again  unto 
folly — to  some  pleasing  sin ;  if  not  in  outward  act, 
yet  in  heart.  He  has  given  place  to  pride,  or  an- 
ger, or  desire,  to  self-will,  or  stubbornness.  Or  he 
did  not  stir  up  the  gift  of  God  which  was  in  him ; 
he  gave  way  to  spiritual  sloth,  and  would  not  be 
at  the  pains  of  '  praying  always,  and  watching 
thereunto  with  all  perseverance  :,s  that  is,  he  made 
shipwreck  of  the  faith,  for  want  of  self-denial  and 
taking  up  his  cross  daily. 

But  perhaps  he  has  not  made  shipwreck  of 
the  faith :  he  has  still  a  measure  of  the  Spirit  of 
adoption,  which  continues  to  witness  with  his  spirit 
that  he  is  a  child  of  God.  However,  he  is  not 
1  going  on  to  perfection  ;'3  he  is  not  as  one  hungering 
and  thirsting  after  righteousness,  panting  after  the 
whole  image  and  full  enjoyment  of  God,  as  the 
hart  after  the  water-brook  :  *  rather,  he  is  weary  and 
faint  in  his  mind,  and,  as  it  were,  hovering  be- 
tween life  and  death.  And  why  is  he  thus,  but 
because  he  hath  forgotten  the  word  of  God  ? — '  By 
works  is  faith  made  perfect  ?'  He  does  not  use  all 
diligence  in  working  the  works  of  God.  He  does  not 
*  continue  instant  in  prayer,'5  private  as  well  as  pub- 
lic; in  communicating,  hearing,  meditation,  fast- 
ing, and  religious  conference.  If  he  does  not 
wholly  neglect  some  of  these  means,  at  least  he 
does  not  use  them  with  all  his  might.     Or  he  is 

*  Heb.  xi.  27.  *  Eph.  vi.  18.  3  Heb.  vi.  1. 

«  Psalm  xlii.  1.  5  Rom.  xii.  12. 


142  ON    SELF-DENIAL. 

not  zealous  of  works  of  charity,  as  well  as  works  of 
piety.  He  is  not  merciful  after  his  power,  with 
the  full  ability  which  God  giveth.  He  does  not 
fervently  serve  the  Lord,  by  doing  good  to  men,  in 
every  kind,  and  in  every  degree  he  can,  to  their 
souls  as  their  bodies.  And  why  does  he>not  con- 
tinue in  prayer  ?  Because  in  times  of  dryness  it 
is  pain  and  grief  unto  him.  He  does  not  continue 
in  hearing  at  all  opportunities;  because  sleep  is 
sweet,  or  it  is  cold,  or  dark,  or  rainy.  But  why 
does  he  not  continue  in  works  of  mercy  ?  Because 
he  cannot  feed  the  hungry,  or  clothe  thie  naked, 
unless  he  retrench  the  expense  of  his  own  apparel, 
or  use  cheaper  and  less  pleasing  food.  Beside 
which,  the  visiting  the  sick,  or  those  that  are  in 
prison,  is  attended  with  many  disagreeable  cir- 
cumstances. And  so  are  most  works  of  spiritual 
mercy;  reproof  in  particular.  He  would  reprove 
his  neighbour;  but  sometimes  shame,  sometimes 
fear,  comes  between.  For  he  may  expose  himself 
not  only  to  ridicule,  but  to  heavier  inconvenience 
too.  Upon  these,  and  the  like  considerations,  he 
omits  one  or  more,  if  not  all  works  of  mercy  and 
piety.  Therefore,  his  faith  is  not  made  perfect, 
neither  can  he  grow  in  grace  ;  namely,  because  he 
will  not  •  deny  himself,  and  take  up  his  daily 
cross.' 

It  manifestly  follows,  that  it  is  always  owing 
to  the  want  either  of  self-denial,  or  taking  up  his 
cross,  that  a  man  does  not  thoroughly  follow  his 
Lord,  that  he  is  not  fully  a  disciple  of  Christ.  It 
is  owing  to  this,  that  he,  who  is  dead  in  sin,  does 
not  awake,  though  the  trumpet  be  blown ;  that  he, 
who  begins  to  awake  out  of  sleep,  yet  has  no  deep 
or  lasting  conviction ;  that  he,  who  is  deeply  and 


BY   THE    REV.   JOHN   WESLEY.  143 

lastingly  convinced  of  sin,  does  not  attain  re- 
mission of  sins ;  that  some  who  have  received  this 
heavenly  gift,  retain  it  not,  but  make  shipwreck  of 
the  faith ;  and  that  others,  if  they  do  not '  draw  back 
to  perdition,' x  yet  are  '  weary  and  faint  in  their 
minds, '  *  and  do  not  reach  the  ■  mark  of  the  prize 
of  the  high  calling  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus.'3 

III.  How  easily  may  we  learn  from  hence, 
that  they '  knew  neither  the  Scripture,  nor  the  power 
of  God;'4  who  directly  or  indirectly  in  public  or  in 
private,  oppose  the  doctrine  of  self-denial  and  the 
daily  cross.  How  totally  ignorant  are  these  men 
of  a  hundred  particular  texts,  as  well  as  of  the  ge- 
neral tenor  of  the  whole  oracles  of  God !  And 
how  entirely  unacquainted  must  they  be  with  true, 
genuine,  Christian  experience — of  the  manner 
wherein  the  Holy  Spirit  ever  did,  and  does  at  this 
day,  work  in  the  souls  of  men !  They  may  talk 
indeed  very  loudly  and  confidently,  (a  natural 
fruit  of  ignorance,)  as  though  they  were  the  only 
men  who  understood  either  the  word  of  God,  or 
the  experience  of  his  children.  But  their  words 
are,  in  every  sense,  vain  words ;  they  are  weighed 
in  the  balance,  and  found  wanting. 

We  may  learn  from  hence,  secondly,  the  real 
cause  why  not  only  many  particular  persons,  but 
even  bodies  of  men,  who  were  once  burning  and 
shining  lights,  have  now  lost  both  their  light  and 
heat.  If  they  did  not  hate  and  oppose,  they,  at 
least,  lightly  esteemed  this  precious  gospel  doctrine. 
If  they  did  not  boldly  say,  Abnegationem  omnem 
proculcamus,  internecioni  damus ;  "  We  trample 
all  self-denial  under  foot ;  we  devote  it  to  destruc- 


!  Heb.  x.  39.  '  Heb.  xii.  3. 

3  Phil.  iii.  14.  *  Matt.  xxii.  S 


144  ON    SELF-DENIAL. 

tion  : "  yet  they  neither  valued  it  according  to  its 
high  importance,  nor  took  any  pains  in  practising 
it.  Hanc  mystici  docent,  said  that  great,  bad  man, 
"  The  mystic  writers  teach  self-denial." — No,  the  in- 
spired writers.  And  God  teaches  it  to  every  soul 
who  is  willing  to  hear  his  yoice. 

We  may  learn  from  hence,  thirdly,  that  it  is 
not  enough  for  a  minister  of  the  gospel  not  to  op- 
pose the  doctrine  of  self-denial,  to  say  nothing  con- 
cerning it.  Nay,  he  cannot  satisfy  his  duty,  by 
saying  a  little  in  favour  of  it.  If  he  would  indeed 
be  pure  from  the  blood  of  all  men,  he  must  speak 
of  it,  frequently  and  largely  ;  he  must  inculcate  the 
necessity  of  it  in  the  clearest  and  strongest  manner ; 
he  must  press  it  with  all  his  might,  on  all  persons,  at 
all  times,  and  in  all  places,  laying  Uine  upon  line, 
line  upon  line,  precept  upon  precept,  precept 
upon  precept.' l  So  shall  he  have  a  conscience  void 
of  offence ;  so  shall  he  save  his  own  soul,  and  those 
that  hear  him. 

Lastly:  see  "that  you  apply  this,  every  one  of 
you,  to  your  own  souls.  Meditate  upon  it  when 
you  are  in  secret :  ponder  it  in  your  hearts.  Take 
care  not  only  to  understand  it  thoroughly,  but  to 
remember  it  to  your  life's  end.  Cry  unto  the 
strong  for  strength  that  you  may  no  sooner  under- 
stand, than  enter  upon  the  practice  of  it.  Delay 
not  the  time,  but  practise  it  immediately,  from  this 
very  hour ;  practise  it  universally,  on  every  one  of 
the  thousand  occasions  which  will  occur  in  all  cir- 
cumstances of  life  :  practise  it  daily,  without  inter- 
mission, from  the  hour  you  first  set  your  hand  to 
the  plough,  and  perseveringly  endure  therein  to  the 
end,  till  your  spirit  return  to  God. 

1  Is.  xxviii,  10. 


SERMON    VIII. 

GOD'S    END   AND   DESIGN   IN 
AFFLICTION. 

BY  ARCHBISHOP  LEIGH  TON. 


[Robert  Ldghton  was  bom  in  1613.  He  was  made  bishop  of  Dumblatie  in  1660; 
in  1669  he  was  raised  to  the  archiepiscopal  see  of  Glasgow,  from  which  he  retired 
ten  years  afterwards,  and  died  in  1684.] 


SERMON    VIII. 


Hosea  V.  15. 

/  will  go  and  return  to  my  place  till  they  acknowledge 
their  offence,  and  seek  my  face  :  in  their  affliction 
they  will  seek  me  early.  • 

There  is  nothing  we  more  hardly  learn,  and 
whereof  we  have  more  need  to  be  taught,  than  to 
judge  aright  concerning  our  own  dealing  with 
God,  and  God's  dealing  with  us  ;  to  know  and  ac- 
knowledge the  perverseness  and  folly  of  our  own 
ways,  and  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  his  ways. 
Therefore,  the  sermons  of  the  prophets  insist  much 
on  this,  to  convince  the  people  of  God,  to  whom 
they  were  sent,  of  both  these ;  and  by  this,  to  per- 
suade them  to  repentance.  This  is  evidently  here 
the  prophet's  aim.  The  whole  chapter,  with  the 
following,  contains  a  pathetic  remonstrance  of 
God's  just  quarrel  with  his  people,  aggravated  by 
much  long-suffering  and  lenity,  and  many  warn- 
ings, verbal  and  real,  on  his  part,  and  much  stub- 
bornness, impenitence,  and  multiplied  provocation 
on  theirs ;  he  using  all  means  to  reclaim  and  save 
them,  and  they  using  all  means  to  despise  him  and 
ruin  themselves.  The  plea  is  against  both  the 
kingdoms  of  Israel  and  Judah. 

l  2 


148      god's  end  and  design  in  affliction. 

In  these  words  we  have  the  Lord,  after  much 
reasoning  and  trial  of  milder  ways,  which  pre- 
vailed not  with  them,  concluding  upon  a  severe 
course,  as  being  found  necessary,  and  such  as  would 
be  more  effectual  for  their  conversion.  The  words 
contain  these  three  things :  I.  The  procuring  cause 
of  God's  afflicting  his  people.  II.  His  way  of 
afflicting  them.     III.  The  end  of  it. 

I.  The  procuring  cause  is  made  up  of  these  two, 
sin  and  impenitence.  '  I  will  go  till  they  acknow- 
ledge their  offences.,  So  that,  if  they  had  not 
committed  those  provoking  sins,  or,  having  com- 
mitted them,  had  humbly  acknowledged  or  re- 
pented of  them,  this  labour  of  afflicting  them  had 
been  saved ;  but  these  sins  once  committed  and 
often  repeated,  and  their  being  not  so  much  as  once 
acknowledged,  and  all  this  by  God's  own  peculiar 
people,  cannot  but  draw  on  heavy  afflictions. 

1st.  We  may  see  how  unwilling  God  is  to  afflict 
his  people.  Judgments  are  termed  '  his  strange 
work,'  but  mercy  is  his  darling  attribute.  When 
God  exercises  punitive  acts  against  his  people,  the 
Scripture  represents,  as  it  were,  a  kind  of  reluctance 
and  struggling  within  him.  '  How  shall  I  smite 
thee,  O  Ephraim  ?  And  how  shall  I  give  thee  up 
O  Manasseh  ?  My  repentings  are  begun  already.'  * 
He  delights  in  their  prosperity,  and  hath  given 
them  a  rule,  by  which  if  they  walk,  peace  shall  be 
upon  them.  He  hath  made  them  laws,  the  observ- 
ance of  which  will  bring  heaps  of  blessings  upon 
them  ;  as  we  find  what  a  multitude  of  favours  at- 
tended it.  'I  will  give  you  rain  in  due  season;' 
and  a  little  after,  'I  will  give  you  peace  in  the 

1  Hob.  xi.  8. 


BY    ARCHBISHOP   LEIGHTON.  149 

land,  and  ye  shall  lie  down,  and  none  shall  make 
you  afraid.  I  will  walk  among  you,  I  will  be  your 
God,  and  ye  shall  be  my  people.' ■  So,  also  Deut. 
xxvii.  1 — 12.  But,  those  laws  not  being  observed, 
then,  it  is  said,  *  The  Lord  shall  make  the  rain  of 
thy  land  powder  and  dust ;  the  Lord  shall  cause 
thee  'to  be  smitten  before  thine  enemies,'5  &c.  But 
what  is  all  that  when  opposed  to  the  affliction  here 
threatened,  of  God's  withdrawing  himself?  ■  I 
will  go  and  return  to  my  place,  till  they  acknow- 
ledge their  offence.'  He  will  not  leave  them,  un- 
less they  drive  him  away ;  yea,  and  he  is  even  then 
loath  to  leave  them,  and  grieved  that  they  are  such 
enemies  to  themselves,  and  will  not  be  persuaded 
to  be  better  advised. 

2dly.  We  see  where  the  true  blame  of  the  many 
sufferings  and  miseries  of  the  church  is  to  be  found. 
The  abounding  of  sin,  and  the  want  of  repentance, 
these  make  her  troubles  to  abound.  If  God's  own 
people  would  take  his  counsel,  it  would  be  well 
for  them ;  either  his  first  counsel  of  obedience,  or 
his  after  counsel  of  repentance.  When  they  are 
running  from  him,  he  calls  after  them,  'Return, 
return,  O  backsliding  Israel,  why  will  ye  die  ?' 
'  Thou  hast  destroyed  thyself,'  says  the  Lord 
by  the  same  prophet,  'but  in  me  is  thy  help.'3 
His  counsel  and  ways  would  be  peace,  but  their 
afflictions  and  sharp  punishments  are  the  fruit  of 
their  own  ways;  bitter  fruit  and  wormwood,  a 
root  of  bitterness.4  Doth  not  the  preaching  of 
the  word,  and  particularly  the  doctrine  of  repent- 
ance, sufficiently  witness  for  God,  and  against  his 


•  Levit.  xxvi.  4 12.  2  Deut.  24. 

Hos.  xiii.  9.  *  Prov.  v.  9 ;  Jer.  ii.  19. 


150       GOD'S    END    AND    DliSIGN    IN    AFFLICTION. 

people,  when  their  rebellion  brings  calamities 
upon  them  ?  The  often  repeated  warnings  and 
entreaties,  even  to  those  who  have  often  slighted 
and  despised  them,  show  how  unwillingly  he 
afflicts  us.  He  does  not  surprise  them,  without 
warnings  multiplied  one  upon  another.  Before  he 
would  proceed  to  treat  them  as  enemies,  to  hew 
and  slay  them  with  the  sword,  he  uses  his  messen- 
gers of  peace  to  deal  first  with  the  word,  sharply 
indeed,  but  graciously,  (that  sword  of  the  Spirit 
which  kills  to  make  alive,)  to  spare,  if  it  might  be, 
the  destroying  sword  of  the  enemy.  *  I  have  hewn 
them  by  my  prophets ;' '  and  if  that  would  have 
served  their  turn,  the  other  hewing  and  slaying 
should  not  have  followed.  A  wise  enemy,  who  is 
resolved  to  be  avenged,  conceals  his  rage  till  it  be 
accomplished,  and  does  not  threaten  before  he 
strikes,  but  makes  the  execution  of  his  purpose  the 
first  revealing  of  it.  Therefore,  we  may  know  that 
God,  who  doth  all  things  most  wisely,  intends 
favour  in  threatening ;  denounces  indignation  that 
he  n  ay  be  interrupted.  Not  to  inflict  it,  that  is 
his  desire.  He  would  gladly  have  us  stay  his 
hand.  A  humble,  penitent  acknowledgment  will 
do  it.  *  He  threatens  that  he  may  not  strike, 
and  strikes  that  he  may  not  destroy/'*  If  speak- 
ing either  mildly  or  sharply,  will  prevail  with 
his  children,  he  will  not  stir  the  rod  to  them  : 
and  when  the  rod  is  in  his  hand,  if  showing  or 
shaking  it  will  serve  the  turn,  he  will  not  strike 
with  it.  But  this  is  our  folly,  that  usually  we 
abuse  all  this  goodness,  and  will  not  part  with  our 
sins,  till  we  smart  for  them,  and  be  beaten  from 

1  Hob.  vi.  5.  *  Minatur  ne  ccedat,  coedit  ne  occidat. 


BY   ARCHBISHOP   LEIGHTON.  151 

them.  We  pull  punishment  out  of  God's  hand ; 
as  Solomon  says,  'The  fool's  mouth  calleth  for 
strokes.'1  When  these  indulgent  ways  that  the , 
Lord  uses  avail  nothing,  then,  as  a  physician 
wearied  in  striving  with  lenitives  and  gentle  medi- 
cines, in  a  fixed,  stubborn  disease  that  yields  not  to 
them,  it  is  no  wonder  that  he  betake  himself  to 
sharper  remedies,  and  cut  and  burn,  if  need  be, 
that  he  may  cure.  The  Lord's  complaint,  in  the 
beginning  of  the  seventh  chapter  of  this  prophecy, 
sounds  this  way :  '  When  I  would  have  healed 
Ephraim.'  If  it  be  thus,  then,  with  the  church  of 
God,  that  it  is  often  found  guilty  of  great  sins,  and, 
withal,  great  insensibleness  and  impenitence,  it  is 
no  wonder  that  it  is  often  found  under  great  and 
many  afflictions.  There  being  in  the  church,  in 
such  societies  as  profess  God's  name,  peculiar  sins, 
such  as  are  found  nowhere  else,  by  reason  of  God's 
peculiar  covenant  with  them,  and  ordinances  among 
them ;  viz.  contempt  of  the  ordinances,  and  breach 
of  the  covenant ;  and,  by  the  same  reason  too,  pe- 
culiar aggravations  of  the  common  sins,  and  ingre- 
dients of  such  things  as  make  the  same  sins  that 
other  people  commit,  to  be  of  a  deeper  dye  among 
God's  people  ;  their  special  relation  to  him,  and  the 
special  means  and  mercies  they  receive  from  him, 
by  which  they  are  both  more  instructed  and  more 
obliged  to  obedience ;  these  things  make  the  dis- 
obedience more  heinous  in  itself,  and  more  offensive 
to  God.  He  cannot  but  take  it  very  ill  to  be  dis- 
regarded by  his  own:  Kcu  av  tekvov.  Thus  the 
Lord  makes  a  great  and  loud  complaint  that  all 
may  hear ;  calls  heaven  and  earth  to  hear  it,  that 

1  Prov.  xviii.  6. 


152      god's  end  and  design  in  affliction. 

he  had  %  nourished  and  brought  up  children,  and 
they  had  rebelled  against  him."  What  do  we  de- 
serve for  our  sins  ?  Do  not  our  oaths  and  cursing, 
our  pride  and  deceit,  our  wonderful  ignorance  and 
profaneness,  our  formality,  hypocrisy,  and,  above 
all,  our  deep  security,  threaten  us  with  some  heavy 
judgment  ?  Which  cannot  be  avoided  but  by  godly 
sorrow  and  earnest  prayer,  by  the  most  humble 
way  of  acknowledgment  and  real  amendment.  This 
is  our  work  at  this  time ;  and,  unless  we  set  about 
it  for  ourselves,  and  pray  for  it  to  our  brethren,  we 
know  not  what  we  are  doing.  We  cannot  do  any 
thing  to  purpose  in  behalf  of  the  church  of  God, 
nor  be  fit  supplicants  for  its  deliverance,  whilst  we 
remain  ungodly  ourselves. 

II.  God's  way  of  afflicting  his  people:  'I  will  go 
and  return  to  my  place.'  The  way  that  he  will 
afflict  them  is  indeed  the  heaviest,  as  conveyed  in 
this  expression :  as  if  he  should  say,  I  will  with- 
draw myself  from  them,  and  will  not  appear  to 
them  at  all  for  a  time,  yea,  a  long  time.  Well  may 
it  be  rendered  by  ■  affliction'  in  the  other  clause,  for 
they  shall  be  truly  so  when  the  Lord  is  gone  from 
them.  Upon  the  withdrawing  of  his  gracious  pre- 
sence, as  necessarily  follows  affliction,  as  mist  upon 
the  setting  of  the  sun.  This  was  heavier  than  all 
his  corrections.  So  long  as  they  could  but  hear 
and  see  him  amongst  them,  although  it  were 
chiding,  yea,  scourging  them,  yet,  still  there  was 
this  comfort,  that  they  might  speak  to  him  as  being 
near  him,  and  so,  considering  his  merciful  nature, 
might  have  hope,  by  their  complaints  and  cries  in 
his  presence,  to  move  him  to  compassionate  and 

■  Isaiah,  i.  2. 


BY    ARCHBISHOP   LEIGHTON.  153 

spare  them,  and  be  reconciled.  But  when  lie  was 
out  of  sight  and  quite  gone  from  them,  and  so 
could  neither  hear  nor  see  them  in  their  misery, 
this  was  indeed  the  chief  misery,  worse  thjin  all 
that  they  could  suffer  in  other  punishments.  In 
the  preceding  verses,  he  threatens  to  be  as  a  moth 
to  them,  consuming  them,  though  more  slowly  and 
insensibly;  which  was  by  lesser  judgments  that 
befel  these  kingdoms,  as  the  history  of  them  shows: 
then,  as  a  lion,  devouring  more  suddenly  :  but  the 
gradation  rises  to  the  highest  in  this  last,  though  to 
an  ignorant  creature  it  sounds  least:  ?  I  will  return 
to  my  place.'  I  will  retire  my  favourable  presence 
from  them,  and  shut  up  all  the  influences  and  evi- 
dences of  my  grace.  Which,  in  a  public,  national 
sense,  (as  here  it  is  to  be  taken,)  imports,  not  only 
longer  and  more  grievous  troubles  than  any  which 
before  had  befallen  them,  (as  indeed  they  were,)  but 
God's  leaving  of  them  in  those  troubles,  and  not  giv- 
ing, as  before,  any  sign  of  his  merciful  presence.  As 
if  God  should  say,  T  will  give  them  up  to  those  mise- 
ries that  are  to  come  upon  them,  and  leave  them  to 
themselves  and  to  their  cruel  enemies,  and  will 
take  no  notice  of  them,  until  they  know  what  a 
grievous  thing  the  want  of  my  presence  is,  and 
how  hateful  their  sins  are,  that  have  deprived  them 
of  it,  and  so  be  stirred  up  to  seek  my  face ; — they 
would  not  regard  me,  either  in  my  word  or  in  my 
works,  whether  of  mercy  or  of  judgment,  so  long  as 
I  stayed  with  them,  was  present  amongst  them  : — 
that  so  I  may  teach  them  to  know  what  is  the  good 
of  my  presence,  by  the  evil  of  my  absence,  which 
is  a  heavier  judgment  than  all  I  have  yet  inflicted 
on  them. 

And  as  it  is  thus  in  relation  to  the  public  condi- 


154        GODS    END    AND    DESIGN    IN    AFFLICTION. 

tion  of  the  church,  so  is  it,  in  a  personal  and  more 
spiritual  sense,  to  a  child  of  God.    No  evil  he  fears 
so  much,  or  feels  so  heavy,  as  God's  absenting  and 
withdrawing  himself  in  displeasure;  nor  is  there 
any  good  that  he  will  admit  to  be  compared  with 
the  light  of  God's  countenance.     Let  others  seek 
any  good,  let  them  have  any  good  they  can,  but, 
says  David,  for  himself  and  all  the  godly,  the  good 
we  seek,  is  this  and  no  other,  •  Lord,  lift  upon  us 
the  light  of  thy  countenance.' l     He  can  hear  of 
any  distress  with  courage  and  resolution,  but  this 
he  cannot  endure  to  hear  of,  but  deprecates   it, 
*  hide  not  thy  face  from  thy  servant.'     A  godly 
man  may,  in  the  most  prosperous  condition,  have 
much  concern  if  the  face  of  God  be  hid  from  him. 
That   is  his  great  affliction,  as  it  is  here  called. 
There  needs  nothing  else  to  damp  all  his  pros- 
perity.    *  Thou   didst   hide   thy   face,  and   I  was 
troubled.'  *      Even  in  prosperity,  riches  and  power, 
and  other  such  poor  things,  do  not  answer  the  de- 
sires of  a  soul  acquainted  with  God :  all  these  are 
nothing  without  his  favour  shining  on  them  :  no, 
nor  the  graces  which  are  within  them,  which  are 
far  more  precious  than  all  outward  things.     The 
displeased    withdrawing    of    God's    countenance, 
makes  a  sad  night  amid  all  these;  as,  when  the  sun 
is  absent,  it  is  night  still,  notwithstanding  all  the 
stars.      Although  God   lay  outward  affliction    on 
them,  yet,  if  he  enlighten  them,  though  in  a  dun- 
geon, they  can  rejoice.     Yea,  when  they  are  in- 
wardly troubled  for  sin,  and  God  is  rebuking  them 
that  way,  yet,  that  is  not  so  bad  as  when  he  leaves 
them  and  '  returns  to  his  place.'   This  is  more  griev- 

'  Psalm  iv.  6.  *  Ibid.  xxx.  J. 


BY   ARCHBISHOP   LEIGHTON.  155 

ous  than  when  he  chides  and  rebukes  them,  which 
he  may  do,  and  yet,  not  in  *  hot  displeasure,'  as 
David  teaches  us  to  distinguish  it.1  It  is  a  more 
comfortable  condition,  that  he  stay  with  them,  and 
that  he  reprove  them  when  they  sin,  (yea,  that  is  a 
mercy,)  than  that  he  leave  them,  and  speak  not  to 
them,  nor  suffer  them  to  speak  to  him.  They  would 
then  desire  rather  to  find  him  present  though  cor- 
recting; for  then,  by  speaking  to  him,  they  may 
express  their  repentance  and  requests  to  him  fbr 
pardon.  They  would  say  to  God,  '  Strike  me,  but 
hear  me  ;'  rather  than  be  struck  out  from  all  inter- 
course with  him,  and  he  hold  them  as  his  enemies. 
And  thus  God  may  sometimes  deal  with  his  own, 
and  particularly  for  some  notable  offence,  until 
they  be  duly  humbled  and  brought  to  a  lowly  ac- 
knowledgment, and  so,  to  seek  his  face  again ;  to 
see  if  they  will  be  loath  to  grieve  him  again 

Though  we  all  profess  to  know  God,  yet,  the 
greatest  part  of  us  are  so  far  from  duly  esteeming 
him,  that  we  do  not  at  all  know  what  the  spiritual, 
gracious  presence  of  God  is ;  how  sweet  the  enjoy- 
ment", and  how  bitter  and  sad  the  deprivement. 
Oh,  be  desirous  to  understand  and  know  this  highest 
good,  and,  above  all  things,  seek  to  enjoy  it.  A.nc 
without  doubt,  the  "experience  of  it  will  persuade 
you  to  prize  it  and  entertain  it  carefully;  never 
willingly  to  grieve  and  drive  away  so  great  and  so 
good  a  guest,  who  brings  true  happiness  along 
with  him  to  those  with  whom  he  dwells.  There  is 
solid  peace,  and  there  only,  where  he  is.  And  for 
the  church  of  God,  what  other  thing  can  we,  yea, 
what  need  we  desire  but  this,  as  the  assured  help  of 

1  Psalm  vi.  1 


156     god's  end  and  design  in  affliction, 

all  her  distresses  and  sorrows,  that  God  would  re 
turn  his  gracious  presence  to  her  again  ?  Then 
shall  her  enemies  be  turned  backward,  and  she 
shall  sing  and  rejoice  in  the  God  of  her  salvation. 
You  see,  this  is  the  church's  own  prayer : '  she  de- 
sires no  more  than  this,  *  Cause  thy  face  to  shine ; 
and  we  shall  be  safe.'  That  is  the  only  sun  which 
chases  away  the  mist  of  her  griefs  and  troubles. 
So  then,  the  ending  of  these'  confusions  we  are 
lying  and  labouring  under,  is  wrapped  up  in  this ; 
that  the  presence  of  our  God  be  both  entreated  and 
obtained.  This  would  make  a  sweet  union  of 
hearts,  and  make  all  attempts  prosperous,  and 
strike  a  terror  into  the  church's  enemies.  But  if 
their  Rock  forsake  them,  were  they  never  so  surely 
supported  with  other  advantages,  yet  shall  they 
sink  and  fall.  If  he  *  go  to  his  place/  and  shut  up 
his  power  and  wisdom  from  their  help,  and  leave 
them  with  themselves,  this  shall  suffice  to  undo 
them,  without  any  enemy.  It  was  sad  news,  not 
only  to  Moses,  but  to  the  whole  people ;  notwith- 
standing they  were  bent  to  provoke  him  to  do  so, 
it  was  very  grievous  for  them  to  hear,  that  he  had 
refused  them  his  own  guidance,  and  would  with- 
draw himself  from  them,  although  it  was  with  the 
promise  of  an  angel  to  lead  them ;  for  little  can 
any  possible  supply  be  made  by  any  creature  to 
make  up  that  loss.  It  was  indeed  high  time  for 
them  to  put  off  their  ornaments,  and  be  humbled, 
when  their  great  ornament  and  their  great  strength 
was  gone  from  them  in  displeasure.  Then  they 
put  off  their  garbs  of  war,  and  appeared  in  the  pe- 
nitential dress  of  sackcloth  and  ashes.* 

1  Psalm  lxxx.  3.  2  Exod.  xxxiii.  4 — 6. 


BY    ARCHBISHOP   LEIGHTON.  157 

III.  The  end  of  GocT-s  thus  afflicting  his  people. 
And  we  have  these  two  things  to  consider  in  it,  both 
here  clearly  expressed  ;  1st,  God's  intention  in  the 
means;  2dly,  The  power  of  these  means  for  effect- 
ing it.  *  I  will  go  till  they  acknowledge  their 
offences  and  seek  my  face/  and,  in  the  time  of  my 
absence,  which  will  certainly  be  the  time  of  their 
heaviest  affliction, '  they  will  seek  me  early.' 

1.  This  is  God's  end  in  scourging  his  people  :  it 
is  only  to  bring  them  to  a  sorrow  for  their  offences, 
and  an  ingenuous  confession  of  it.  And  if  he 
withdraw  himself,  it  is  not  to  leave  them  for  ever 
and  look  at  them  no  more.  On  the  contrary,  it  is, 
that  they  may  learn  whether  it  is  better  to  enjoy 
him,  or  their  sins;  and  that,  finding  themselves 
miserable  without  him,  they  may  leave  those  sins 
with  which  he  will  not  dwell,  and  may  come  and 
entreat  his  return  to  them ;  which  he  is  willing, 
being  entreated  to  grant  them.  And  this  he  re- 
moves from  them,  that,  on  their  return  to  him,  and 
their  earnest  and  humble  seeking  of  his  return  to 
them,  they  may  find  him,  and  enjoy  more  of  his 
presence  than  before,  and  learn  to  keep  it  better. 
He  throws  his  people  into  the  furnace,  and  goes 
away,  and  leaves  them  there ;  yet,  it  is  not  to  let 
them  lie  still  there,  but  he  is  skilful  in  this  work, 
and  knows  the  time  needful  for  their  refining,  and 
then  returns  and  takes  them  out.  His  purpose  is, 
to  purge  away  the  dross,  but  he  will  not  lose  the 
gold.  '  By  this  shall  the  iniquity  of  Jacob  be 
purged,  and  this  will  serve  to  take  away  his  sin.' l 
As  that  sin  was  the  meriting  cause  of  the  affliction, 
it  clears  God's  justice ;  the  end  he  aims  at,  when 

1  Isaiah,  xxvii.  9. 


158     god's  end  and  design  in  affliction. 

he  declares  his  graciousness  and  mercy  to  his  peo- 
ple, being  no  other  than  this,  to  destroy  the  merit- 
ing cause  of  the  affliction,  by  their  trouble ;  to 
take  away  that  sin  which  procured  it,  and  then  to 
give  them  peace.  That  is  his  design.  He  takes  no 
pleasure  in  their  affliction  for  itself,  more  than  they 
themselves  do.  Indeed,  in  punishing  his  enemies, 
there  is  pure  justice :  their  punishments  are  not  for 
a  better  end,  so  far  as  concerns  them,  but  are  ap- 
pointed to  torment  them.  But  to  his  own  people 
his  purpose  is,  by  afflicting  them,  only  to  draw 
them  from  theii  sins,  which  drive  him  away  from 
them.  And  as  we  see  in  this  the  bounty  of  God, 
so  it  instructs  us,  for  our  own  practice,  in  the  just 
way  both  of  preventing  trouble  to  ourselves  that  it 
come  not,  and  of  removing  it  if  it  be  come  upon  us. 
Is  this  the  thing  God  seeks  in  punishing  us,  a 
sense  and  acknowledgment  of  sin  committed  ? 
Then,  if  we  give  him  his  end,  he  will  not  at  all 
needlessly  make  use  of  the  means.  If,  therefore, 
we  either  carefully  shun  sinful  provocations,  or, 
being  guilty,  speedily  return  and  humble  ourselves 
before  him,  he  will  not  enter  into  displeasure 
against  us ;  he  will  be  appeased  towards  us.  And 
on  our  seeing  that  which  is  his  intent  in  punishing, 
before  he  begins  to  punish,  he  is  very  well  pleased 
to  be  thus  prevented.  So  then,  if  either  we  follow 
the  advice  of  the  psalmist,  '  Stand  in  awe  and  sin 
not,' '  or  that  other  which  follows,  that  we  '  examine 
our  hearts'  concerning  sin,  before  the  decree  of  pu- 
nishment go  forth,  or  be  put  in  execution  on  our 
guiltiness,  pronouncing  ourselves  guilty,  (as  the 
word  is  here  in  the  text,)  which  is  indeed  acknow- 

1  Psalm  iv.  4. 


BY    ARCHBISHOP    LEIGHTON.  159 

lodging  our  offences — this  is  the  way  to  prevent  it; 
and,  if  it  be  begun  upon  us,  this  is  the  ready  way 
to  remove  it,  for  this  is  the  end  of  it.  When  the 
Lord  sees  his  children  grieved  for  their  offences  and 
entreating  pardon,  he  is  a  tender-hearted  father, 
the  very  •  Father  of  mercies.'  Those  confessions 
and  prayers  that  his  children  utter,  enter  his  pater- 
nal ears;  the  rod  falls  out  of  his  hand,  and  he  turns 
his  stripes  into  embraces,  and  his  frowns  into 
smiling.  There  may  be,  indeed,  a  confused  cry 
from  the  sense  of  the  smart,  without  repentance, 
that  moves  him  not.  As  he  directs  parents  in  cor- 
recting a  peevish  child,  '  Thou  shalt  not  spare  for 
his  crying,' '  so,  he  himself  doth  not  spare  nor  leave 
off  for  that  kind  of  crying.  It  is  confession  and 
submission  that  he  seeks,  not  the  howling  and 
complaining  which  nature  draws  from  any  under 
sharp  affliction.  This,  the  Lord  complains  of  in  his 
people,  by  the  same  prophet.  *  They  did  not  cry 
unto  me  with  their  hearts ;  they  only  howled  upon 
their  beds.'*  A  man  that  is  upon  the  rack  for 
extorting  confession  will  cry  and  roar  when  he 
confesses  nothing ;  but  it  is  not  that  which  is 
sought  of  him;  pain  forces  him  to  that :  it  is  con- 
fession; and  when  he  begins  the  least  word  of  that, 
they  presently  stay  and  release  him.  Thus  it  was 
with  David,  and  he  tells  it  us,  and  distinguishes 
these  two  expressly.3  He  tells  us  of  his  '  roaring' 
under  the  hand  of  God,  but  that  did  no  good  :  he 
found  no  ease  by  that,  so  long  as  he  kept  silence 
from  this  confession.  But  as  soon  as  he  began,  or 
did  but  offer  at  acknowledgment,  one  word  of  con- 


Prov.  xix.  18.  *  Hos.  viL  14. 

a  Psalm  xxxil.  3—5. 


160     god's  end  and  design  in  affliction. 

fession,  yea,  the  promise  of  it,  brought  him  the  re- 
lease that  a  whole  day's  roaring  could  not  obtain. 
*I  roared  all  day  long,'  but  thou  helpedst  me  not; 
still  '  thy  hand  continued  heavy  upon  me.'  But  I 
'  acknowledged  my  sin  ;  I  said,  I  would  confess 
my  transgression,  and  thou  forgavest  the  iniquity 
of  my  sin.' 

Now,  to  the  end  we  may  confess  aright,  there 
must  be  a  searching  of  our  hearts  for  our  sins,  and 
for  some  particular  one  or  more  which  God's  afflic- 
tions aim  at.  And,  first,  if  we  cannot  easily  find 
it  out,  consider  the  nature  of  the  affliction.  Se- 
condly, seek  the  knowledge  of  it  from  God,  who 
will  readily,  when  he  corrects  his  children,  tell 
them  what  fault  it  is.  Thirdly,  however,  finding  so 
many,  be  sure  to  spare  none  pf  them,  and  then  ye 
cannot  but  fall  on  the  main  one  which  breedeth 
you  trouble. 

2.  The  other  thing  here  concerning  the  end  of 
affliction,  is,  the  efficacy  of  the  means  for  reaching 
it:  'In  their  affliction  they  will  seek  me  early.' 
It  had  been  early,  in  a  wiser  sense,  to  have  sought 
to  him  for  a  reconcilement  before  the  affliction ; 
but  here  it  expresses  a  most  diligent  seeking,  ac- 
cording to  the  original  word ;  for  things  that  men 
are  earnest  upon,  they  will  be  early  stirring  to  set 
about.  For,  besides  that  is  a  certain  prophecy  of 
what  was  to  come  to  pass  in  this  people,  it  hath  in 
it  *his  general  truth,  with  which  it  agrees ;  to  wit, 
the  moral  fitness  of  great  affliction  to  work  this  dili- 
gent seeking  of  God,  before  neglected,  and  acknow- 
ledgment of  sin,  before  unfelt ;  which  is  expressed  in 
the  former  clause.  Together  with  seeking  his  face, 
there  must  be  the  sense  and  acknowledgment  of 
sin.     There  is  no  returning  to  him,  but  from  it. 


BY   ARCHBISHOP   LEIGHTON.  161 

In  following  sin,  we  depart  from  God,  and  by  for- 
saking it,  we  return  to  him.  These  are  insepara- 
ble ;  they  are  but  one  motion.  It  was  their  sin 
made  him  leave  them  and  go  to  his  place ;  and 
therefore  it  were  in  vain  to  seek  him,  retaining  it, 
for  that  would  drive  him  further  from  them. 

Now,  affliction  is  apt  to  bring  men  to  this  ;  such, 
I  mean,  as  have  any  knowledge  of  God.  Although 
they  be  not  converted,  yet,  it  works  them  to  a  tem- 
porary fit  of  returning  and  seeking  God,  such  as 
they  are  capable  of.  And  those  make  up  the 
greatest  part  in  the  public  humblings  of  a  nation, 
or  any  multitude  of  people,  having  most  of  them 
no  more  heat  of  devotion  and  desire  of  God,  than 
the  fit  of  present  affliction  works;  and  therefore, 
when  that  ceases,  they  have  done  likewise  with 
their  repentance  and  regard  of  God.  Being  stirred 
only  by  that  outward  principle,  they  act  no  longer 
that  way,  than  while  they  acted  by  it.  Water  will 
be  very  hot,  yea,  boil  and  make  a  noise,  when  it  is 
upon  the  fire;  but  set  it  off,  and  it  returns,  within 
a  while,  to  its  natural  coldness.  Thus  it  was  often 
with  the  same  people.  See  Psalm  Ixxviii.  And 
there  are  still  daily  too  many  instances  of  it.  Yet 
the  Lord,  to  show  how  much  regard  he  hath  to  re- 
pentance, lets  not  the  very  semblance  of  it  go  to 
loss.  He  is  pleased,  for  the  repressing  of  sin,  and 
the  purging  of  his  church  of  gross  and  scandalous 
profaneness,  to  make  use  of  public  afflictions  to 
work  in  many  even  this  kind  of  repentance,  and  to 
answer  this  repentance  with  the  removal  of  the 
affliction  that  wrought  it.  With  God's  own  chil- 
dren, this  method  holds  in  a  way  peculiar  to  them. 
They  may,  indeed,  as  well  as  others,  sometimes 
stand  in  need  of  the  rod  for  their  bettering,  and  it 

M 


162     god's  end  and  design  in  affliction 

may  work  it,  but  there  is  this  difference ;  their  griet 
for  sin  and  seeking  after  God,  do  not  wholly  de- 
pend on  the  lash  ;  they  are  constant  in  these  things, 
as  having  a  living  principle  within  them ;  whence 
they  show,  in  all  estates,  that  sin  is  to  them  the 
greatest  grief,  and  the  favour  of  God  the  greatest  good. 
Again,  when  they  are  surprised  with  sin,  and  pos- 
sibly fall  into  a  fit  of  security,  and  must  be  awaked 
by  some  affliction,  and  it  is  sent  for  that  purpose, 
that  renewing  which  it  works  in  them,  is  not,  as  in 
others,  a  mere  present  violent  motion  only,  from 
the  impulse  of  the  affliction,  but  it  is  real  and  in- 
ward from  the  grace  which  is  in  them,  awaked  and 
only  set  on  work  by  the  correction ;  and  therefore 
it  is  more  abiding  than  the  other.  There  is  in 
them  a  special  love  to  God,  .working  their  repent- 
ings  and  returning  under  the  sense  of  his  hand. 
And  it  is  from  God's  special  love  to  them,  which 
others  share  not  in,  that  he  stirs  them  urrto  renew 
repentance,  and  upon  their  repentance  takes  off 
affliction,  and  shows  himself  graciously  reconciled 
to  them.  To  some,  likewise,  it  may  be,  that  God 
may  use  some  particular  cross,  as  a  partial  and 
concurring  means  to  the  work  of  their  repentance 
and  conversion  to  God.  But,  however,  there  is  in 
that,  some  peculiar  love  of  God,  and  that  effectual 
working  of  his  word  and  Spirit  to  beget  grace  in 
them,  by  which  afflictions  are  sanctioned  and  made 
useful  to  excite  and  awaken  grace  where  it  is. 

Now,  in  all  these  different  ways,  affliction  is  apt 
for  this  effect :  1st.  Because  it  sets  men  in  upon 
themselves,  calls  in  their  thoughts,  which,  in  a  fair 
season,  more  readily  dissipate  and  scatter  them- 
selves abroad.  As  they  observe,  that  much  light 
disqualifies  the  sight  of  the  mind,  as  well  as  that  of 


BY   ARCHBISHOP   LEIGHTON.         ►  163 

the  body,  and  that  in  the  dark,  men's  thoughts  are 
more  united  and  deep ;  thus,  in  the  darkness  of  af- 
fliction, we  feel  readily  more  inwards,  and  that  ac- 
quaints us  better  with  ourselves  and  our  sins,  and 
so  tends  to  the  first  of  these  two,  the  acknowledging 
of  our  offences.  Besides,  the  particular  respect  we 
speak  of,  is  often  betwixt  the  kind  of  affliction  and 
our  own  sins. 

2dly.  When  a  man  is  driven  by  force  from  the 
comforts   of  the   world,   which  he  used  to  hinge 
upon,   especially  by  some  great   affliction   which 
breaks  him  off  from  them  all,  then,  if  behave  any 
thoughts  concerning  God,  those  begin  to  work  with 
him.     He  bethinks  himself  for  no  other  way  of 
help,  but  thinks,  Could  I  obtain  the  Lord  to  be- 
friend  me,   and  show   me  his   favour,   that  were 
enough.     He  could  deliver  me  out  of  this  distress, 
and  in  the  mean  time  support  me  under  it.     True, 
I  have  provoked  him,  and,  which  is  heavier  than 
all  my   other  troubles,    I  have  made   him   mine 
enemy;  yet,  I  know  he  is  very  compassionate  and 
gracious,  therefore  T  will  go  to  him,  and  confess 
my  offence,  and  I  trust  he  will  pardon  me.     This 
is  the  other  thing,  the  seeking  of  his  face.     So, 
affliction  hath  something  in  it  suitable  to  the  work 
of  both.     As  we  see,  the  lost  son  by  his  distress 
came  to  himself,  and  then  resolved  to  return  to  his 
father.     Indeed,  when  a  man  is  straitened  on  all 
hands  by  a  crowd  of  troubles,  and  finds  no  way 
out,  then  he  finds  his  only  way  is  upward.     We 
know  not  what  to  do,  but  our  eyes  are  towards 
thee.     The  Israelites  went  before  to  other  helpers  ; 
they  are  reproved  for  it ;'  but  when  once  convinced 

'  Verse  13. 

M  2 


lt)4     god's  end  and  design  in  affliction. 

of  that  folly,  no  more  of  any  such  way,  but,  as  fol- 
lows in  the  next  words  containing  a  description  of 
their  purposes,  '  Come,  let  us  return  to  the  Lord 
our  God,'  they  acknowledge  him  as  the  just  in- 
flicter  of  these  calamities :  '  he  hath  torn/  and  '  he 
hath  smitten.'  Not  a  word  of  Salmanazer  or  Ne- 
buchadnezzar, but  their  offended  God  is  their 
smiter,  and  so,  no  recourse  to  other  powers  for  this 
deliverance,  but,  ■  Let  us  return  to  him ;  he  will 
heal  us.'  Oh,  then,  let  us  all  be  persuaded  to  re- 
pentance. And  certainly,  all  they  who  do  truly 
mind  the  honour  of  God,  and  the  good  of  his 
church,  will  not  be  negligent  at  such  a  time  as  this. 
I  trust,  that  God  who  heareth  prayer,  will  have  re- 
gard to  their  prayers  and  his  own  glory.    Amen. 


SERMON    IX. 

ON  SUBMISSION  TO  THE  DIVINE  WILL. 
BY  DR.  BARROW. 


(Isaac  Barrow  was  born  in  1630.    In  1672  he  was  made  master  of  Trtaitf 
College,  Cambridge,  and  died  in  16770 


SERMON    IX. 


Luke,  xxii.  42. 

Nevertheless  let  not  my  will,  but  thine,  be  done. 

The  great  controversy,  managed  with  such  earn- 
estness and  obstinacy  between  God  and  man,  is 
this — whose  will  shall  take  place,  his  or  ours.  Al- 
mighty God,  by  whose  constant  protection  and 
great  mercy  we  subsist,  doth  claim  to  himself  the 
authority  of  regulating  our  practice,  and  disposing 
our  fortunes ;  but  we  affect  to  be  our  own  masters 
and  carvers ;  not  willingly  admitting  any  law,  not 
patiently  brooking  any  condition,  which  doth  not 
sort  with  our  fancy  and  pleasure :  to  make  good 
his  right,  God  bendeth  all  his  forces,  and  applieth 
all  proper  means  both  of  sweetness  and  severity ; 
(persuading  us  by  arguments,  soliciting  us  by  en- 
treaties, alluring  us  by  fair  promises,  scaring  us  by 
fierce  menaces,  indulging  ample  benefits  to  us,  in- 
flicting sore  corrections  on  us,  working  in  us  and 
upon  us  by  secret  influences  of  grace,  by  visible 
dispensations  of  providence;)   yet  so  it  is,  that 


168       ON    SUBMISSION    TO    THE   DIVINE    WILL. 

commonly  nothing  doth  avail,  our  will  opposing 
itself  with  invincible  resolution  and  stiffness. 

Here  indeed  the  business  pincheth ;  herein  as 
the  chief  worth,  so  the  main  difficulty  of  religious 
practice  consisteth,  in  bending  that  iron  sinew ;  in 
bringing  our  proud  hearts  to  stoop,  and  our  sturdy 
humours  to  buckle,  so  as  to  surrender  and  resign 
our  wills  to  the  just,  the  wise,  the  gracious  will  of 
our  God,  prescribing  our  duty,  and  assigning  our 
lot  unto  us.  We  may  accuse  our  nature,  but  it  is 
our  pleasure — we  may  pretend  weakness,  but  it  is 
wilfulness,  which  is  the  guilty  cause  of  our  misde- 
meanours; for  by  God's  help  (which  doth  always 
prevent  our  needs,  and  is  never  wanting  to  those 
who  seriously  desire  it)  we  may  be  as  good  as  we 
please,  if  we  can  please  to  be  good.1  There  is  no- 
thing within  us  that  can  resist,  if  our  wills  do  yield 
themselves  up  to  duty :  to  conquer  our  reason  is 
not  hard  ;  for  what  reason  of  man  can  withstand 
the  infinite  cogency  of  those  motives,  which  in- 
duce to  obedience  ?  What  can  be  more  easy,  than 
by  a  thousand  arguments,  clear  as  day,  to  con- 
vince any  man,  that  to  cross  God's  will  is  the 
greatest  absurdity  in  the  world,  and  that  there  is  no 
madness  comparable  thereto?2  Nor  is  it  difficult, 
if  we  resolve  upon  it,  to  govern  any  other  part  or 
power  of  our  nature ;  for  what  cannot  we  do,  if  we 
are  willing?  what  inclination  cannot  we  check, 
what  appetite  cannot  we  restrain,  what  passion 
cannot  we  quell  or  moderate  ?  what  faculty  of  our 
soul,  or  member  of  our  body  is  not  obsequious  to 

1  Chrys.  torn.  vi.  Or.  12,  in  1  Cor.'  Or.  17,  torn.  v.  Or. 
28,  43. 

*  Sen.  de  Ira,  ii.  12. 


BY    DR.   BARROW.  169 

our  will?  Even  half  the  resolution  with  which 
we  pursue  vanity  and  sin,  would  serve  to  engage 
us  in  the  ways  of  wisdom  and  virtue. 

"Wherefore  in  overcoming  our  will  the  stress 
lieth  :  this  is  that  impregnable  fortress,  which  ever- 
lastingly doth  hold  out  against  all  the  batteries  of 
reason  and  of  grace ;  which  no  force  of  persuasion, 
no  allurement  of  favour,  no  discouragement  of  ter- 
ror can  reduce :  this  puny,  this  impotent  thing  it 
is,  which  grappleth  with  Omnipotency,  and  often 
in  a  manner  baffleth  it.  And  no  wonder;  for  that 
God  doth  not  intend  to  overpower  our  will,  or  to 
make  any  violent  impression  on  it,  but  only  to 
'  draw  it  (as  it  is  in  the  Prophet,1)  with  the  cords 
of  a  man/  or  by  rational  inducements  to  win  its 
consent  and  compliance  :  our  service  is  not  so  con- 
siderable to  him,  that  he  should  extort  it  from  us ; 
nor  doth  he  value  our  happiness  at  so  low  a  rate,  as 
to  obtrude  it  on  us.  His  victory  indeed  were  no 
true  victory  over  us,  if  he  should  gain  it  by  main 
force,  or  without  the  concurrence  of  our  will :  our 
works  not  being  our  works,  if  they  do  not  issue 
from  our  will ;  and  our  will  not  being  our  will,  if 
it  be  not  free ;  to  compel  it  were  to  destroy  it,  to- 
gether with  all  the  worth  of  our  virtue  and  obedi- 
ence. Wherefore  the  Almighty  doth  suffer  him- 
self to  be  withstood,  and  beareth  repulses  from  us ; 
nor  commonly  doth  he  master  our  will  otherwise, 
than  by  its  own  spontaneous  conversion  and  sub- 
mission to  him :  if  ever  we  be  conquered,  as  we 
shall  share  in  the  benefit,  and  wear  a  crown ;  so 
we  must  join  in  the  combat,  and  partake  of  the 
victory,  by  subduing  ourselves :  '  we  must  take  the 

1  Hosea,  xi.  4. 


170      ON    SUBMISSION   TO   THE    DIVINE    WILL. 

yoke  upon  us;'  for  God  is  only  served  by  volun- 
teers; he  summoneth  us  by  his  word,  he  attracteth 
us  by  his  grace,  but  we  must  *  freely  come  unto 
him.' l 

Our  will  indeed  of  all  things  is  most  our  own — 
the  only  gift,  the  most  "proper  sacrifice  we  have  to 
offer;  which  therefore  God  doth  chiefly  desire, 
doth  most  highly  prize,  doth  most  kindly  accept 
from  us.  Seeing  then  our  duty  chiefly  moveth  on 
this  hinge,  the  free  submission  and  resignation  of 
our  will  to  the  will  of  God ;  it  is  this  practice, 
which  our  Lord  (who  came  to  guide  us  in  the  way 
to  happiness,  not  only  as  a  teacher  by  his  word 
and  excellent  doctrine,  but  as  a  leader,  by  his  ac- 
tions and  perfect  example)  did  especially  set  before 
us ;  as  in  the  constant  tenor  of  his  life,  so  particu- 
larly in  that  great  exigency  which  occasioned 
these  words,  wherein,  renouncing  and  deprecating 
his  own  will,  he  did  express  an  entire  submission 
to  God's  will,  a  hearty  complacence  therein,  and  a 
serious  desire  that  it  might  take  place. 

For  the  fuller  understanding  of  which  case,  we 
may  consider,  that  our  Lord,  as  partaker  of  our 
nature,  and,  '  in  all  things  (bating  sin)  like  unto 
us,'  had  a  natural  human  will,  attended  with 
senses,  appetites,  and  affections,  apt  from  objects 
incident  to  receive  congruous  impressions  of  plea- 
sure and  pain ;  so  that  whatever  is  innocently 
grateful  and  pleasant  to  us,  that  he  relished  with 
delight,  and  thence  did  incline  to  embrace ;  what- 
ever is  distasteful  and  afflictive  to  us,  that  he  re- 
sented with   grief,  and  thence  was  moved  to  es- 

1  'Enst  tuto  §  dvra  faaGaWu  to.  ayaSa  el  fir)  Toiavrr] 
avribv  e<riv  rj  Qvaig,  cjq  fy  Ikovtoq  irpoaSpafjitZv,  k,  %agiv 
?X«v  iroWriv.— Chrys.  in  1  Cor.  Orat.  2. 


BY   DR.   BARROW.  171 

chew.  To  this  probably  he  was  liable  in  a  degree 
beyond  our  ordinary  rate ;  for  that  in  him  nature 
was  most  perfect,  his  complexion  very  delicate,  his 
temper  exquisitely  sound  and  fine ;  for  so  we  find, 
that  by  how  much  any  man's  constitution  is  more 
sound,  by  so  much  he  hath  a  smarter  gust  of  what 
is  agreeable  or  offensive.  If  this  be  deemed  weak- 
ness, it  is  a  weakness  connected  with  our  nature, 
which  he  therewith  did  take,  and  ■  with  which  (as 
the  apostle  saith)  '  he  was  encompassed.'1  Such  a 
will  our  Lord  had,  and  it  was  requisite  that  he 
should  have  it,  that  he  thence  might  be  qualified 
to  discharge  the  principal  instances  of  obedience, 
for  procuring  God's  favour  to  us,  and  for  setting  an 
exact  pattern  before  us;  for  God  imposing  on  him 
duties  to  perform,  and  dispensing  accidents  to  en- 
dure, very  cross  to  that  natural  will,  in  his  com 
pliance  and  acquiescence  thereto  his  obedience 
was  thoroughly  tried;  his  virtue  did  shine  most 
brightly;  therefore  (as  the  apostle  saith)  '■  he  was 
in  all  points  tempted ;' 2  thence,  as  to  meritorious 
capacity,  and  exemplary  influence,  •  he  was  per- 
fected through  suffering.'3 

Hence  was  the  whole  course  of  his  life  and  con- 
versation among  men,  so  designed,  so  modelled,  as 
to  be  one  continual  exercise  of  thwarting  that  hu- 
man will,  and  closing  with  the  divine  pleasure  :  it 
was  predicted  of  him,  '  Lo,  I  come  to  do  thy  will,  O 
God  ;'4  and  of  himself  he  affirmed,  *  I  came  down 
from  heaven  not  to  do  my  own  will,  but  the  will  of 
him  that  sent  me ; ,5  whereas  therefore  such  a  prac- 

1  'Eirtl  icf  avroQ  7repifcarat  aoSkvuav. — Heb.  V.  2. 

«  Heb.  iv.  15.  3  lb.  ii.  10,  18. 

4  Heb.  x.  7  ;  Psalm  xl.  7- 

*  John,  vi.  38 ;  v.  30  ;  iv.  34. 


172       ON    SUBMESSION   TO   THE    DIVINE   WILL. 

tice  is  little  seen  in  achieving  easy  matters,  or  in 
admitting  pleasant  occurrences ;  it  was  ordered  for 
him,  that  he  should  encounter  the  roughest  diffi- 
culties, and  be  engaged  in  circumstances  most 
harsh  to  natural  apprehension  and  appetite ;  so 
that  if  we  trace  the  footsteps  of  his  life  from  the 
sordid  manger  to  the  bloody  cross,  we  can  hardly 
mark  any  thing  to  have  befallen  him  apt  to  satisfy 
the  will  of  nature. 

Nature  liketh  respect,  and  loatheth  contempt: 
therefore  was  he  born  of  mean  parentage,  and 
in  a  most  homely  condition;  therefore  did  he 
live  in  no  garb,  did  assume  no  office,  did  exercise 
no  power,  did  meddle  in  no  affairs,  which  procure 
to  men  consideration  and  regard  ;  therefore  an  im- 
poster,  a  blasphemer,  a  sorcerer,  a  loose  companion, 
a  seditious  incendiary,  were  the  titles  of  honour 
and  the  eulogies  of  praise  conferred  on  him  ;  there- 
fore was  he  exposed  to  the  lash  of  every  slander- 
ous, every  scurrilous,  every  petulant  and  ungo- 
verned  tongue. 

Nature  doth  affect  the  good  opinion,  and  good  will 
of  men,  especially  when  due  in  grateful  return  for 
great  courtesy  and  beneficence ;  nor  doth  any  thing 
more  grate  thereon,  than  abuse  of  kindness :  there- 
fore, could  he  (the  world's  great  friend  and  bene- 
factor) say  '  the  world  hateth  me :' '  therefore  were 
those,  whom  he  with  so  much  charity  and  bounty 
had  instructed,  had  fed,  had  cured  of  diseases  (both 
corporal  and  spiritual)  so  ready  to  clamour,  and 
commit  outrage  upon  him ;  therefore  could  he  thus 
expostulate,  '  Many  good  works  have  I  showed 
you  from  my  Father,  for  which  of  those  works  do 

1  John,  vii.  7« 


BY    DR.    BARROW.  173 

ye  stone  me  ?' l  therefore  did  his  kindred  slight 
him,  therefore  did  his  disciples  abandon  him, 
therefore  did  the  grand  traitor  issue  from  his  own 
bosom;8  therefore  did  that  whole  nation,  which  he 
chiefly  sought  and  laboured  to  save,  conspire  to 
persecute  him,  with  most  rancorous  spite  and  cruel 
misusage. 

Nature  loveth  plentiful  accommodations,  and 
abhorreth  to  be  pinched  with  any  want :  therefore 
was  extreme  penury  appointed  to  him :  he  had  no 
revenue,  no  estate,  no  certain  livelihood,  not  'so 
much  as  a  house  where  to  lay  his  head,'3  or  a 
piece  of  money  to  discharge  the  tax  for  it;  he 
owed  his  ordinary  support  to  alms,  or  voluntary 
beneficence ;  he  was  to  seek  his  food  from  '  a  fig- 
tree  on  the  way  ;'4  and  sometimes  was  beholden  for 
it  to  the  courtesy  of  publicans ;  $i  r]fidg  tTrrwyevaE, 
'  he  was/  saith  St.  Paul,  '  a  beggar  for  us.'5. 

Nature  delighteth  in  ease,  in  quiet,  in  liberty : 
therefore  did  he  spend  his  days  in  continual  labour, 
in  restless  travel,  in  endless  vagrancy, '  going  about 
and  doing  good;'6  ever  hastening  thither,  whither 
the  needs  of  men  did  call,  or  their  benefit  invite; 
therefore  did  he  '  take  on  him  the  form  of  a  ser- 
vant,'7 and  was  among  his  own  followers  '  as  one 
that  ministereth ; ' 8  therefore  he  '  pleased  not  him- 
self,'9 but  suited  his  demeanour  to  the  state  and 
circumstances  of  things,  complied  with  the  manners 
and  fashions,  comported  with  the  humours  and  in- 
firmities of  men. 

Nature  coveteth  good  success  to  its  design  and 

1  John,  x.  32".  8  lb.  xiiL  18.  3  Matt.  viii.  20. 

4  Matt.  xxi.  19.  5  2  Cor.  viii.  9. 

•  Matt.  iv.  23  ;  viii.  35  ;  Acts,  x.  38.  »  Phil.  ii.  7. 

8  Luke,  xxii.  27.  9  Rom.  xv.  3. 


174      OF    SUBMISSION    TO    THE    DIVINE    WILL. 

undertakings,  hardly  brooking  to  be  disappointed 
and  defeated   in   them  :  therefore  was  he  put  to 
water  dry  sticks,  and  to  wash  negroes ;  that  is,  to 
instruct  a  most  dull  and  stupid,  to  reform  a  most 
perverse  and  stubborn   generation ;   therefore  his 
ardent  desires,  his  solicitous  cares,  his  painful  en- 
deavours for  the  good  of  men  did  obtain  so  little 
fruit;  had  indeed  a  contrary  effect,  rather  aggra- 
vating their  sins  than  removing  them,  rather  harden- 
ing than  turning  their  hearts,  rather  plunging  them 
deeper  into  perdition,  than  rescuing  them  from  it. 
Therefore  so  much  in  vain  did  he,  in  numberless 
miraculous  works,  display  his  power  and  goodness, 
convincing  few,  converting  fewer  by  them ;  there- 
fore, although  he  taught  with  most  powerful  autho- 
rity, with  most  charming  gracefulness,  with  most 
convincing  evidence,  yet,  '  Who  (could  he  say) 
hath  believed  our  report  ? ' '  though  he  most  ear- 
nestly did  invite  and  allure  men  to  him,  offering 
the  richest  boons  that  heaven  itself  could  dispense, 
yet, '  Ye  will  not  (was  he  forced  to  say)  come  unto 
me,  that  ye  maybe  saved;'*  although   with  assi- 
duous fervency  of  affection  he  strove  to  reclaim 
them  from  courses  tending  to  their  ruin,  yet  how 
he   prospered,  sad  experience   declareth,  and  we 
may   learn   from   that   doleful   complaint,    •  How 
often  would  I  have  gathered  thy  children  together, 
as  a  hen  doth  gather  her  brood  under  her  wings, 
but  ye  would  not:'3  uk  fiSeXriaaTe,  your  will  did  not 
concur,  your  will  did  not  submit. 

In  fine,  natural  will  seeketh  pleasure,  and  shun- 
neth  pain ;  but  what  pleasure  did  he  taste ;  what 


John,  xii.  37,  38.  '  *  John,  v.  40. 

3  Luke,  xiii.  34. 


BY  DR.   BARROW.  175 

inclination,  what  appetite,  what  sense  did  he  gra- 
tify ?  How  did  he  feast,  or  revel  ?  How,  but  in 
tedious  fastings,  in  frequent  hungers,  by  passing 
whole  nights  in  prayer,  and  retirement  for  devo- 
tion upon  the  cold  mountains  ?  What  sports  had 
he,  what  recreation  did  he  take,  but  feeling  inces- 
sant gripes  of  compassion,  and  wearisome  roving  in 
quest  of  the  lost  sheep  ?  In  what  conversation 
could  he  divert  himself,  but  among  those,  whose 
doltish  incapacity,  and  forward  humour,  did  wring 
from  his  patience  those  words,  'How  long  shall 
I  be  with  you,  how  long  shall  I  suffer  you?'1 
What  music  did  he  hear,  but  the  rattlings  of 
clamorous  obloquy,  and  furious  accusations  against 
him  ?  to  be  desperately  maligned,  to  be  insolently 
mocked,  to  be  styled  a  king,  and  treated  as  a  slave ; 
to  be  spit  on,  to  be  buffetted,  to  be  scourged,  to  be 
drenched  with  gall,  to  be  crowned  with  thorns,  to 
be  nailed  to  a  cross ;  these  were  the  delights  which 
our  Lord  enjoyed,  these  the  sweet  comforts  of  his 
life,  and  the  notable  prosperities  of  his  fortune : 
such  a  portion  was  allotted  to  him,  the  which  he 
did  accept  from  God's  hand  with  all  patient  sub- 
mission, with  perfect  contentedness,  with  exceeding 
alacrity,  never  repining  at  it,  never  complaining  of 
it,  never  flinching  from  it,  or  fainting  under  it ;  but 
proceeding  on  in  the  performance  of  all  his  duty, 
and  prosecution  of  his  great  designs,  with  un- 
daunted courage,  with  unwearied  industry,  with 
undisturbed  tranquillity  and  satisfaction  of  mind. 

Had  indeed  his  condition  and  fortune  been  other- 
wise framed ;  had  he  come  into  the  world  quali- 
fied with  a  noble  extraction;  had  he  lived  in  a 

1  Matt.  xvii.  17. 


176      OF   SUBMISSION   TO   THE    DIVINE   WILL. 

splendid  equipage,  had  he  enjoyed  a  plentiful 
estate  and  a  fair  reputation,  had  he  been  favoured 
and  caressed  by  men ;  had  he  found  a  current  of 
prosperous  success,  had  safety,  ease  and  pleasure 
waited  on  him  ;  where  had  been  the  pious  resigna- 
tion of  his  will,  where  the  precious  merit  of  his 
obedience,  where  the  glorious  lustre  of  his  example  ? 
how  then  had  our  frailty  in  him  become  victorious 
over  all  his  enemies  ?  how  had  he  triumphed  over 
the  solicitations  and  allurements  of  the  flesh  ;  over 
the  frowns  and  flatteries  of  the  world ;  over  the 
malice  and  fury  of  hell  ?  how  then  could  he  have 
so  demonstrated  his  immense  charity  toward  us,  or 
laid  so  mighty  obligations  upon  us  ? 

Such  in  general  was  the  case,  and  such  the  de- 
portment of  our  Lord ;  but  there  was  somewhat 
peculiar,  and  beyond  all  this  occurring  to  him, 
which  drew  forth  the  words  of  our  text.  God  had 
tempered  for  him  a  potion  of  all  the  most  bitter 
and  loathsome  ingredients  that  could  be ;  a  drop 
whereof  no  man  ever  hath,  or  could  endure  to  sip  ; 
for  he  was  not  only  to  undergo  whatever  load  hu- 
man rage  could  impose,  of  ignominious  disgrace, 
and  grievous  pain  ;  but  to  feel  dismal  agonies  of 
spirit,  and  those  '  unknown  sufferings/  which  God 
alone  could  inflict,  God  only  could  sustain  :  *  Be- 
hold, and  see,'  he  might  well  say,  '  if  there  be 
any  sorrow  like  unto  my  sorrow,  which  is  done 
unto  me;  wherewith  the  Lord  hath  afflicted  me  in 
the  day  of  his  fierce  anger?'1  He  was  to  labour 
with  pangs  of  charity,  and  through  his  heart  to  be 
pierced  with  deepest  commiseration  of  our  wretched 
case  :  he  was  to  crouch  under  the  burden  of  all 
the  sins  (the  numberless  most  heinous  sins  and 
1  Lam.  i.  12. 


BY    DR.    BARROW.  177 

abominations)  ever  committed  by  mankind  :  he 
was  to  pass  through  the  hottest  furnace  of  divine 
vengeance,  and  by  his  blood  to  quench  the  wrath 
of  heaven  flaming  out  against  iniquity ;  he  was  to 
stand  (as  it  were)  before  the  mouth  of  hell,  belch- 
ing fire  and  brimstone  on  his  face  :  his  grief  was  to 
supply  the  defects  of  our  remorse,  and  his  suffering 
in  those  few  moments  to  countervail  the  eternal 
torments  due  to  us  :  he  was  to  bear  the  hiding  of 
God's  face,  and  an  eclipse  of  that  favourable  aspect, 
in  which  all  bliss  doth  reside;  a  case  which  he  that 
so  perfectly  understood  it,  could  not  but  infinitely 
resent.  These  things  with  the  clearest  apprehen- 
sion he  saw  coming  on  him ;  and  no  wonder  that 
our  nature  started  at  so  ghastly  a  sight,  or  that 
human  instinct  should  dictate  that  petition,  *  Fa- 
ther, if  thou  wilt,  let  this  cup  pass  from  me,' — 
words  implying  his  most  real  participation  of  our 
infirmity  ;  words  denoting  the  height  of  those  sad 
evils  which  encompassed  him  with  his  lively  and 
lowly  resentment  of  them  ;  words  informing  us, 
how  we  should  entertain  God's  chastisements,  and 
whence  we  must  seek  relief  of  our  pressures;  (that 
we  should  receive  them,  not  with  a  scornful  neg- 
lect, or  sullen  insensibility,  but  with  a  meek  contri- 
tion of  soul ;  that  we  should  entirely  depend  on 
God's  pleasure  for  support  under  them,  or  a  re- 
leasement  from  them;)  words  which,  in  conjunc- 
tion with  those  following,  do  show  how  instantly 
we  should  quash  and  overrule  any  insurrection  of 
natural  desire  against  the  command  or  providence 
of  God.  We  must  not  take  that  prayer  to  signify 
any  purpose  in  our  Lord  to  shift  off  his  passion,  or 
any  wavering  in  resolution  about  it ;  for  he  could 
not  any  wise  mean  to  undo  that,  which  he  knew 

N 


178      ON    SUBMISSION   TO    THE    DIVINE    WILL. 

done  with  God  before  the  world's  foundation ;  he 
would  not  unsettle  that,  which  was  by  his  own  free 
undertaking,  and   irreversible  decree.     He  that  so 
often  with  satisfaction  did  foretel  this  event,  who 
with  so  '  earnest  desire/ '  longed  for  its  approach  ; 
who  with  that  sharpness  of  indignation  did  rebuke 
his  friend  offering  to  divert  him  from  it ;  who  did 
again  repress  St.  Peter's  animosity  with  that  serious 
expostulation,    'The  cup  which  my  Father  hath 
given  me,  shall  I  not  drink  it  ? ' 2  who  had  advisedly 
laid  such  trains  for  its  accomplishment — would  he 
decline  it  ?    Could  that  heart,  all  burning  with  zeal 
for  God  and  charity  to  men,  admit  the  least  thought 
or  motion  of  averseness  from  drinking  that  cup, 
which  was  the  sovereign  medicine  administered  by 
divine  wisdom,  for  the  recovery  of  God's  creation  ? 
No :  had  he  spake  with  such  intent,  legions  of  an- 
gels had  flown  to  his  rescue ;   that  word,  which 
framed   the   worlds,   which   stilled  the   tempests, 
which    ejected    devils,   would    immediately   have 
scattered  his  enemies,  and  dashed  all  their  projects 
against  him.     Wherefore  those  words  did  not  pro- 
ceed from  intention,  but  as  from  instinct,  and  for 
instruction;  importing,  that  what  our  human  frailty 
was  apt  to  suggest,  that  his  divine  virtue  was  more 
ready  to  smother ;  neither  did  he  vent  the  former, 
but  that  he  might  express  the  latter.     He  did  ex- 
press it  in  real  effect ;  immediately  with  all  readi- 
ness addressing  himself  to  receive  that  unsavoury 
potion.     He  reached  out  his  hand  for  it,  yielding 
fair  opportunity  and  advantages  to  his  persecutors ; 
he  lifted  it  up  to  his  mouth,  innocently  provoking 


1  Eir&vpiq.  ETTifrvfitiv. — Luke,  xxii.  15. 
*  John,  xviii.  11. 


BY   DR.   BARROW.  179 

their  envy  and  malice ;  he  drank  it  off  with  a  most 
steady  calmness,  and  sweet  composure  of  mind, 
with  the  silence,  the  simplicity,  the  meekness  of  a 
lamb,  carried  to  the  slaughter ;  no  fretful  thought 
rising  up,  no  angry  word  breaking  forth,  but  a 
clear  patience,  enlivened  with  a  warm  charity, 
shining  in  all  his  behaviour,  and  through  every 
circumstance  of  his  passion. 

Such  in  his  life,  such  at  his  death,  was  the  prac- 
tice of  our  Lord ;  in  conformity  whereto  we  also 
readily  should  undertake  whatever  God  proposeth, 
we  gladly  should  accept  whatever  God  offereth,  we 
vigorously  should  perform  whatever  God  enjoin- 
eth,  we  patiently  should  undergo  whatever  God 
imposeth  or  inflicteth,  how  cross  soever  any  duty, 
any  dispensation  may  prove  to  our  carnal  sense  or 
humour. 

To  do  thus,  the  contemplation  of  this  example 
may  strongly  engage  us.  For  if  our  Lord  had  not 
his  will,  can  we  in  reason  expect,  can  we  in  mo- 
desty desire,  to  have  ours  ?  Must  we  be  cockered 
and  pleased  in  every  thing,  when  as  he  was  treated 
so  coarsely,  and  crossed  in  all  things  ?  can  we 
grudge  at  any  kind  of  service,  or  sufferance  ?  can 
we  think  much  (for  our  trial,  our  exercise,  our  cor- 
rection) to  bear  a  little  want,  a  little  disgrace,  a 
little  pain,  when  the  Son  of  God  was  put  to  dis- 
charge the  hardest  tasks,  to  endure  the  sorest  ad- 
versities ? 

But  further  to  enforce  these  duties,  be  pleased 
to  cast  a  glance  on  two  considerations.  First, 
What  the  will  is  to  which, — Secondly,  Who  the 
wilier  is  to  whom,  we  must  submit. 

1.  What  is  the  will  of  God  ?  Is  it  any  thing 
unjust,  unworthy,  or  dishonourable,  any  thing  in- 


180      ON    SUBMISSION    TO    THE    DIVINE    WILL. 

commodious  or  hurtful,  any  thing  extremely  dim- 
cult,  or  intolerably  grievous,  that  God  requireth  of 
us  to  do  or  bear  ?  No :  he  willeth  nothing  from 
us,  or  to  us,  which  doth  not  best  become  us,  and 
most  behove  us ;  which  is  not  attended  with  safety, 
with  ease,  with  the  solidest  profit,  the  fairest  repu- 
tation, and  the  sweetest  pleasure. 

Two  things  he  willeth, — that  we  should  be  good, 
and  that  we  should  be  happy  ;  the  first  in  order  to 
the  second ;  for  that  virtue  is  the  certain  way,  and 
a  necessary  qualification  to  felicity. 

*  The  will  of  God,'  saith  St.  Paul,  '  is  our  sancti- 
fication  :' l  what  is  that  ?  What,  but  that  the  decays 
of  our  frame,  and  the  defacements  of  God's  image 
within  us,  should  be  repaired ;  that  the  faculties  of 
our  soul  should  be  restored  to  their  original  integ- 
rity and  vigour ;  that  from  most  wretched  slaveries 
we  should  be  translated  into  a  happy  freedom,  yea, 
into  a  glorious  kingdom;  that  from  despicable 
beggary  and  baseness  we  should  be  advanced  to 
substantial  wealth,  and  sublime  dignity ;  that  we 
should  be  cleansed  from  the  foulest  defilements, 
and  decked  with  the  goodliest  ornaments  ;  that  we 
should  be  cured  of  most  loathsome  diseases,  and 
settled  in  a  firm  health  of  soul ;  that  we  should  be 
delivered  from  those  brutish  lusts,  and  those  de-  . 
vilish  passions,  which  create  in  us  a  hell  of  dark- 
ness, of  confusion,  of  vexation, — which  dishonour 
our  nature,  deform  our  soul,  ruffle  our  mind,  and 
rack  our  conscience ;  that  we  should  be  endowed 
with  those  worthy  dispositions  and  affections, 
which  do  constitute  in  our  hearts  a  heaven  of  light, 
of  order,  of  joy  and  peace, — dignify  our  nature, 

1  1  Thess.  iv.  3. 


BY    DR.    BARROW  181 

beautify  our  soul,  clarify  and  cheer  our  mind; 
that  we  should  eschew  those  practices,  which  ne- 
ver go  without  a  retinue  of  woful  mischiefs  and 
sorrows,  embracing  those  which  always  yield  abun- 
dant fruits  of  convenience  and  comfort;  that  in 
short,  we  should  become  friends  of  God,  fit  to  con- 
verse with  angels,  and  capable  of  paradise. 

■  God,'  saith  St.  Paul  again,  •  willeth  all  men 
to  be  saved ; ■  '  He  willeth  not,'  saith  St.  Peter, 
'  that  any  man  should  perish  ;'2  He  saith  it  him- 
self, yea,  he  sweareth  it,  •  that  he  hath  no  pleasure 
in  the  death  of  the  wicked,  but  that  the  wicked 
should  turn  from  his  way  and  live.'3  And  what  is 
this  will?  What,  but  that  we  should  obtain  all 
the  good  whereof  we  are  capable ;  that  we  should 
be  filled  with  joy,  and  crowned  with  glory;  that 
we  should  be  fixed  in  an  immovable  state  of  hap- 
piness, in  the  perpetual  enjoyment  of  God's  fa- 
vour, and  in  the  light  of  his  blissful  presence  :  that 
we  should  be  rid  of  all  the  evils  to  which  we  are 
liable;  that  we  should  be  released  from  inextri- 
cable chains  of  guilt,  from  incurable  stings  of  re- 
morse, from  being  irrecoverably  engaged  to  pass 
a  disconsolate  eternity  in  utter  darkness  and  ex- 
treme woe  ?  Such  is  God's  will;  to  such  purposes 
every  command,  evej;y  dispensation  of  God  (how 
grim,  how  rough  soever  it  may  seem)  doth  tend: 
and  do  we  refuse  to  comply  with  that  good  will  ? 
do  we  set  against  it  a  will  of  our  own,  affecting 
things  unworthy  of  us,  things  unprofitable  to  us, 
things  prejudicial  to  our  best  interests,  things  ut- 
terly baneful  to  our  souls  ?  Do  we  reject  the  will 
that  would  save  us,  and  adhere  to  a  will  that  would 

1  1  Tim.  ii.  4.        •  2  Pet  iii.  9.  3  Ezek.  xxxiii.  11. 


182       ON    SUBMISSION    TO    THE    DIVINE    WILL. 

ruin  us;  a  foolish  and  a  senseless  will,  which, 
slighting  the  immense  treasures  of  heaven,  the  un- 
fading glories  of  God's  kingdom,  the  ineffable  joys 
of  eternity,  doth  catch  at  specious  nothings,  doth 
pursue  mischievous  trifles ;  a  shadow  of  base  profit 
a  smoke  of  vain  honour,  a  flash  of  sordid  pleasure  ; 
which  passeth  away  like  '  the  mirth  of  fools/  or 
f  the  crackling  of  thorns,' '  leaving  only  soot,  black 
and  bitter,  behind  it. 

But  at  least  ere  we  do  thus,  let  us  consider, 
whose  will  it  is,  that  requireth  our  compliance. 

It  is  the  will  of  him,  whose  will  did  found  the 
earth,  and  rear  the  heaven  ;8  whose  will  sustaineth 
all  things  in  their  existence  and  operation;  whose 
will  is  the  great  law  of  the  world,  which  universal 
nature  in  all  its  motions  doth  observe;  which 
reigneth  in  heaven,  the  blessed  spirits  adoring  it, 
which  swayeth  in  hell  itself,  the  cursed  fiends 
trembling  at  it:  and  shall  we  alone  (we  pitiful 
worms  crawling  on  earth)  presume  to  murmur,  or 
dare  to  kick  against  it  ? 

It  is  the  will  of  our  Maker,  who  together  with  all 
our  other  faculties  did  create  and  confer  on  us  the 
very  power  of  willing :  and  shall  we  turn  the  work 
of  his  hands,  the  gift  of  his  bounty  against  him  ? 

It  is  the  will  of  our  Preserver,  who  together  with 
all  that  we  are  or  have,  continually  doth  uphold 
our  very  will  itself;  so  that  without  employing 
any  positive  force,  merely  by  letting  us  fall  out  ot 
his  hand,  he  can  send  us  and  it  back  to  nothing  : 
and  shall  our  will  clash  with  that,  on  which  it  so 
wholly  dependeth ;  without  which  it  cannot  subsist 
one  moment,  or  move  one  step  forward  in  action  ? 

*  Eccles.  vii.  6.        *  Psalm  cxlviii.  5  ;  Apoc.  Iv.  11. 


BY   DR.   BARROW.  183 

It  is  the  will  of  our  sovereign  Lord,  who  upon 
various  indisputable  accounts  hath  a  just  right  to 
govern  us,  and  an  absolute  power  to  dispose  of  us : 
ought  we  not  therefore  to  say  with  old  Eli,  '  It  is 
the  Lord,  let  him  do  to  me  as  it  seemeth  good  to 
him  ?' '  Is  it  not  extreme  iniquity,  is  it  not  mon- 
strous arrogance  for  us,  in  derogation  to  his  will,  to 
pretend  giving  law,  or  picking  a  station  to  our- 
selves ?  Do  we  not  manifestly  incur  high-treason 
against  the  King  of  Heaven  by  so  invading  his 
office,  usurping  his  authority,  snatching  his  scep- 
tre into  our  hands,  and  setting  our  wills  in  his 
throne  ? 

It  is  the  will  of  our  Judge,  from  whose  mouth 
our  doom  must  proceed,  awarding  life  or  death, 
weal  or  woe  unto  us  :  and  what  sentence  can  we 
expect,  what  favour  can  we  pretend  to,  if  we  pre- 
sumptuously shall  offend — oppose — that  will,  which 
is  the  supreme  rule  of  justice,  and  sole  fountain  of 
mercy  ? 

It  is  the  will  of  our  Redeemer,  who  hath  bought 
us  with  an  inestimable  price,  and  with  infinite 
pains  hath  rescued  us  from  miserable  captivity 
under  most  barbarous  enemies,  that  obeying  his 
will  we  might  command  our  own,  and  serving  him 
we  might  enjoy  perfeqt  freedom  :  and  shall  we,  de- 
clining his  call  and  conduct  out  of  that  unhappy 
state,  bereave  him  of  his  purchase,  frustrate  his  un- 
dertakings, and  forfeit  to  ourselves  the  benefit  of 
so  great  redemption  ? 

It  is  the  will  of  Our  best  Friend  ;  who  loveth  us 
much  better  than  we  do  love  ourselves;  who  is 
concerned  for  our  welfare,  as  his  own  dearest  in- 

1  1  Sam.  iii.  18. 


184       ON    SUBMISSION    TO    THE    DIVINE    WILL. 

terest,  and  greatly  delighteth  therein;  who  by 
innumerable  experiments  hath  demonstrated  an 
excess  of  kindness  to  us ;  who  in  all  his  dealings 
with  us  purely  doth  aim  at  our  good,  never  charg- 
ing any  duty  on  us,  or  dispensing  any  event  to 
us,  so  much  with  intent  to  exercise  his  power  over 
us,  as  to  express  his  goodness  towards  us;  who 
never  '  doth  afflict  or  grieve  us'1  more  against  our 
will,  than  against  his  own  desire;  never  indeed 
but  when  goodness  itself  calleth  for  it,  and  even 
mercy  doth  urge  thereto;  to  whom  we  are  much 
obliged,  that  he  vouchsafeth  to  govern  and  guide 
us,  our  service  being  altogether  unprofitable  to 
him,  his  governance  exceedingly  beneficial  to  us. 
And  doth  not  such  a  will  deserve  regard,  may  it 
not  demand  compliance  from  us  ?  To  neglect  or  in- 
fringe it,  what  is  it  ?  Is  it  not  palpable  folly,  is  it 
not  foul  disingenuity,  is  it  not  destestable  ingrati- 
tude? 

So  doth  every  relation  of  God  recommend  his 
will  to  us ;  and  each  of  his  attributes  doth  no  less : 
for, 

It  is  the  will  of  him  who  is  most  holy,  or  whose 
will  is  essential  rectitude :  how  then  can  we  thwart 
it,  without  being  stained  with  the  guilt,  and 
wounded  with  a  sense  of  great  irregularity  and  in- 
iquity ? 

It  is  the  will  of  him  who  is  perfectly  just ;  who 
therefore  cannot  but  assert  his  own  righteous  will, 
and  avenge  the  violation  thereof:  is  it  then  ad- 
visable to  drive  him  to  that  point  by  wilful  provo- 
cation; or  to  run  upon  the  edge  of  necessary 
severity  ? 


BY   DR.   BARROW.  285 

It  is  the  will  of  him  who  is  infinitely  wise ;  who 
therefore  doth  infallibly  know  what  is  best  for  us, 
what  doth  most  befit  our  capacities  and  circum- 
stances ;  what  in  the  final  result  will  conduce  to 
our  greatest  advantage  and  comfort :  shall  we  then 
prefer  the  dreams  of  our  vain  mind  before  the 
oracles  of  his  wisdom ;  shall  we,  forsaking  the  di- 
rection of  his  unerring  will,  follow  the  impulse  of 
our  giddy  humour  ? 

It  is  the  will  of  him  who  is  immensely  good  and 
benign  ;  whose  will  therefore  can  be.no  other  than 
good  will  to  us ;  who  can  mean  nothing  thereby 
but  to  derive  bounty  and  mercy  on  us.  Can  we 
then  fail  of  doing  well,  if  we  put  ourselves  entirely 
into  his  hands ;  are  we  not  our  own  greatest  ene- 
mies, in  withstanding  his  gracious  intentions  ? 

It  is,  finally,  the  will  of  him  who  is  uncontrolla- 
bly powerful;  whose  will  therefore  must  prevail 
one  way  or  other ;  either  with  our  will,  or  against 
it,  either  so  as  to  bow  and  satisfy  us,  or  so  as  to  break 
and  plague  us :  for  '  my  counsel,'  saith  he,  '  shall 
stand,  and  I  will  do  all  my  pleasure.'1  As  to  his 
dispensations,we  may  fret,  we  may  wail,  we  may  bark 
at  them,  but  we  cannot  alter  or  avoid  them.  Sooner 
may  we  by  our  moans  check  the  tides,  or  by  our 
cries  stop  the  sun  in  his  career,  than  divert  the 
current  of  affairs,  or  change  the  state  of  things  esta- 
blished by  God's  high  decree :  what  he  layeth  on 
no  hand  can  remove ;  what  he  hath  destined,  no 
power  can  reverse ;  our  anger  therefore  will  be  in- 
effectual, our  impatience  will  have  no  other  fruit, 
than  to  aggravate  our  guilt,  and  augment  our  grief. 
As  to  his  commands,  we  may  *  lift  up  ourselves 

1  Isa.  xlvi.  10. 


186      ON    SUBMISSION    TO   THE    DIVINE    WILL. 

against  them/1  we  may  fight  stoutly,  we  may  in  a 
sort  prove  conquerors ;  but  it  will  be  a  miserable 
victory,  the  trophies  whereof  shall  be  erected  in 
hell,  and  stand  upon  the  ruins  of  our  happiness; 
for  while  we  insult  over  abused  grace,  we  must  fall 
under  incensed  justice.  If  God  cannot  fairly  pro- 
cure his  will  of  us  in  way  of  due  obedience,  he  will 
surely  execute  his  will  upon  us  in  way  of  righteous 
vengeance  ;  if  we  do  not  surrender  our  wills  to  the 
overtures  of  his  goodness,  we  must  submit  our  backs 
to  the  strokes  of  his  anger :  he  must  reign  over  us, 
if  not  as  over  loyal  subjects  to  our  comfort,  yet  as 
over  stubborn  rebels  to  our  confusion ;  for  this  in 
that  case  will  be  our  doom,  and  the  last  words  God 
will  deign  to  spend  upon  us — '  Those  mine  ene- 
mies, which  would  not  that  I  should  reign  over 
them,  bring  them  hither,  and  slay  them  before 
me.'8 

'Now,  the  God  of  peace,  that  brought  again 
from  the  dead  our  Lord  Jesus,  that  great  Shepherd 
of  the  sheep,  through  the  blood  of  the  everlasting 
covenant,  make  you  perfect  in  every  good  work  to 
do  his  will,  working  in  you  that  which  is  well  pleas- 
ing in  his  sight,  through  Jesus  Christ;  to  whom  be 
glory  for  ever  and  ever  :'3    Amen. 

1  Dan.  v.  23.  *  Luke,  xix.  27.  3  Heb.  xiii.  20. 


SERMON    X. 

THE  ATONEMENT  A  PLEDGE  OF  EVERY 
OTHER  BLESSING. 

BY  ANTHONY  FARINDON,  B.  D. 


[farinoon  wai  born  in  1596,  and  died  in  1696.] 


SERMON    X. 


Romans,  vih.  32. 

He  that  spared  not  his  own  Son,  but  delivered  him 
ttp  for  us  all,  shall  he  not  with  him  also  freely  give 
us  all  things  P 

God's  benefits  come  not  alone,  but  one  gift  is  the 
pledge  of  another.  The  grant  of  a  mite  is  the  as- 
signment of  a  talent.  A  drop  of  dew  from  hea- 
ven is  a  prognostic  of  a  gracious  shower,  of  a  flood, 
which  nothing  can  dry  but  ingratitude.  One  ol 
the  Fathers  might  well  say,  that  "  the  love  of  God 
is  as  a  constant  and  endless  circle,  from  good  to 
good,  in  good,  without  error  or  inconstancy,  rolling 
and  carrying  itself  about  in  an  everlasting  gyration.1 
'  He  spared  not  his  own  Son,'  saith  the  text,  '  but 
delivered  him  up  for  us  all.'  But  how  many 
gifts  did  usher  in  this  ?  He  gave  him  to  us  often 
in  the  creation  of  the  world.  For  *  by  him  were 
all  things  made,  and  without  him  was  nothing 
made  that  was  made."  When  God  giveth,  he 
giveth  his  Son ;  for  as  we  ask  in  his  name,  so  he 

1  S.  Dionys.  ae  Divin.  Norn.  p.  200.  *  John,  i.  3. 


190  THE    ATONEMENT. 

giveth  in  his  name  whatsoever  we  ask.  Every  ac- 
tion of  God  is  a  gift,  and  every  gift  a  tender  of 
his  Son — an  art  to  make  us  capable  of  more.  Thus 
the  argument  of  God's  love  is  drawn  a  minori  ad 
majus,  from  that  which  seemeth  little  to  that  which 
is  greater,  from  a  grain  to  an  harvest,  from  one 
blessing  to  a  myriad,  from  our  creation  to  our  re- 
demption, from  Christ's  actions  to  his  passion  ; 
which  is  the  true  authentic  instrument  of  his  love. 
With  us  the  argument  holdeth  not,  but  with  God  it 
doth  :  by  giving  little  he  giveth  hopes  of  more 
He  that  is  our  steward,  to  provide  for  us,  and  sup- 
ply us  out  of  his  treasury — who  ripeneth  the  fruits 
on  the  trees,  and  the  corn  in  the  fields,  who  draw- 
eth  us  wine  out  of  the  vine,  and  spinneth  us  gar- 
ments out  of  the  bowels  of  the  worm,  and  fleece  of 
the  flock,  will  give  us  greater  things  than  these. 
He  that  giveth  us  balm  for  our  bodies,  will  give  us 
physic  for  our  souls.  He  that  gave  us  our  being 
by  his  Son,  will  deliver  up  his  Son  for  the  world. 
Here  his  love  is  in  its  zenith  and  vertical  point,  and 
in  a  direct  line  casteth  its  rays  of  comfort  on  his 
lost  creature.  Here  the  argument  is  at  the  highest, 
and  St.  Paul  draweth  it  down  again,  d  majori  ad 
minus,  from  the  greater  to  the  less ;  and  the  con- 
clusion is  full — full  of  comfort  to  all.  He  that 
giveth  a  talent  will  certainly  give  a  mite  :  he  that 
giveth  '  his  Son,'  will  also  give  salvation ;  and  he 
that  giveth  salvation,  will  give  'all  things'  which 
may  work  it  out.  •  He  that  delivered  his  Son/  is 
followed  by  the  question,  '  how  shall  he  not  ?— 
how  shall  he  not  with  him  also  freely  give  us  all 
things?'  It  is  impossible  it  should  be  otherwise. 
Christ  cometh  not  naked,  but  clothed  with  bless- 
ings ;  he  cometh  not  empty,  but  with  the  riches  of 


BY   ANTHONY   FARINDON,   B.  D.  191 

heaven,  the  treasures  of  wisdom  and  happiness. 
Christ  cometh  not  alone,  but  with  troops  of  angels, 
with  glorious  promises  and  blessings.  Nay,  to 
make  good  the  quomodo  nony  the  'How  shall  he 
not  ? '- — to  make  it  unanswerable,  unquestionable — 
it  is  his  nakedness  that  clothes  us,  his  poverty  that 
cnricheth  us,  his  diminution  that  maketh  us  great, 
and  his  exinanition  and  emptying  of  himself  that 
filleth  us ;  and  his  being  *  delivered  for  us,'  deli- 
vereth  to  us  the  possession  of  •  all  things.* 

Here  then  is  an  assignment  made  to  mankind : 
1,  Christ  given  ;  2,  Given  for  us  all ;  and,  3,  A  full 
stream  of  blessings  issuing  out  with  his  blood. 

Or,  because  it  is  a  work  of  infinite  love,  we  will 
call  it  scalam  amoris,  the  scale  or  ladder  of  the  di- 
vine love.  And  then  the  steps,  the  parts  to  come 
under  consideration,  will  be,  1,  The  person  deli- 
vered— *  his  own  Son.'  2,  The  delivery  and  man- 
ner of  it — '  He  delivered/  and  '  spared  him  not.' 
3,  The  persons  for  whom — '  for  us  all : '  and  these 
will,  in  the  last  place,  bring  in,  4,  The  end  of  all, 
the  end  of  Christ's  delivery  and  of  all  his  sufferings, 
and  make  us  bold  to  ask  this  question,  *  How  shall 
he  not  with  him  also  freely  give  us  all  things  ? ' 

I.  '  His  own  Son.'  This,  though  we  make  it  the 
first  step,  yet  indeed  is  the  top  of  the  ladder,  the 
highest  pitch  of  God's  love,  from  which  the  light  of 
his  countenance  shineth  upon  us,  and  showeth  that 
he  loved  us  as  his  own  Son — nay,  more  than  his 
own  Son.  In  this  manifestation  of  his  love,  he  ap- 
peareth  rather  a  Father  to  us  than  to  him.  To  gain 
us,  he  is  willing  in  a  manner  to  be  himself  at  a 
loss ;  and  to  endanger  his  own,  that  he  may  free 
us  from  slavery.  He  will  spoil  and  rob  himself,  to 
enrich  us ;  and,  to  make  us  his  children,  '  deliver 
up  his  own  Son.'     A  strange  contemplation  it  is  : 


i92  THE    ATONEMENT. 

Nazianzen  shutteth  it  up  in  admiration,  and  coun- 
selled us  to  sit  down  and  "  reverence  it  with  si- 
lence.'" Can  God  delight  to  make  his  Son  a  sa- 
crifice, who  would  not  suffer  Abraham  to  offer  up 
his  ?  Or  might  he  not  have  taken  an  angel  for  his 
Son,  as  he  did  a  ram  for  Isaac  ?  Tig  6  \6yog; 
what  reason  can  be  given  for  this  delivery  ?  Here 
the  object  is  so  radiant  that  it  confoundeth  the 
sense,  and  we  scarce  can  see  it  when  we  look  upon 
it.  God's  love  is  at  such  an  height,  that  our  con- 
templation cannot  reach  it;  and  though  in  plain 
terms  we  are  told  what  was  done,  yet  we  are  slow 
of  heart  to  believe  it.  Olim  morbo  nunc  remedio 
laboramus — the  remedy  is  so  admirable  that  it 
amazeth  the  patient.  But  why  should  we  fear 
where  no  fear  is  ?  Why  should  we  fear  to  dis- 
parage Christ,  when  he  is  so  well  pleased  to  hum- 
ble himself?  Why  should  we  be  wiser  than  God  ? 
Why  should  we  offend  and  scandalize  Christ,  as 
Peter  did :  l  Be  this  far  from  the  Lord,'8  from  the 
Son  of  God  ;  that  is,  '  Let  God  forbid  that  which 
he  will  have  done.'  Why  should  we  check  his  wis- 
dom, or  be  troubled  at  his  love  ?  When  God  will 
•  deliver  up  his  Son,'  to  talk  of  improbability,  or  in- 
congruity, or  impossibility,  is  to  speak  against  God. 
If  he  will  deliver  him,  his  will  be  done.  He  that 
resteth  in  God's  will,  doth  best  acknowledge  his 
majesty.  It  was  his  will  to  'deliver'  him.  And 
this  cleareth  all  doubts,  and  beateth  down  every 
imagination  that  exalteth  itself.  If  God  will  do 
any  thing,  we  have  but  one  word  left  us  for  answer, 
— '  Amen/  let  it  be  done.  He  hath  wisdom  and 
power  to  attend  his  will ;  and  '  who  are  we  that 


1  Toiaura  <riy?)  <n(SkoQi<).     Orat.  38. 
*  Matt.  xvi.  22. 


BY    ANTHONY    FARTNDON,   B.D.  193 

darken  counsel  by  words  without  knowledge?'1 
When  we  fall  down  at  his  footstool,  and  acknow- 
ledge his  infinite  power ;  when  we  say,  '  he  only 
can  do  wondrous  works  ;'s  when  in  all  humility 
we  acknowledge  that  he  can  do  more  than  we  can 
think, — that  he  can  uphold  us  when  we  are  ready 
to  fall,  enrich  us  in  poverty,  strengthen  us  in  weak- 
ness, supply  us  with  all  necessary  means  and  en- 
couragements in  this  our  race ;  when  we  preach  on 
the  house-tops,  that  he  can  tread  down  all  our  ene- 
mies under  our  feet,  and  bind  Satan  in  chains ; 
when  we  believe  and  rely  on  it,  that  he  is  able  to 
immortalize  our  flesh,  to  raise  us  out  of  the  dust, 
and  set  us  in  heavenly  places  ; — we  think  we  have 
raised  our  magnificats  to  the  highest :  and  indeed, 
a  Christian  needeth  not  set  his  songs  and  hallelu- 
jahs to  a  higher  note.  But  yet  we  do  not  here 
rise  so  high,  nor  so  fully  express  him,  as  when  we 
give  him  an  absolute  will,  and  say,  '  He  doth  what 
he  will  in  heaven  and  in  earth/3  This  can  belong 
to  none  but  the  highest,  to  the  King  of  kings  and 
Lord  of  lords.  This  maketh  God  paramount,  and 
commander  of  all.  Even  his  omnipotency  seemeth 
to  submit  and  vail  to  his  will,  and  to  be  com- 
manded by  it :  for  many  things  he  doth  not  do, 
because  he  will  not,  not  because  he  cannot.  "  He 
can  do  what  he  will,"  saith  Tertullian  ;  "  and  what 
he  will  not  do,  we  may  say  he  cannot.  What 
he  would  do,  he  could  and  did."4  What,  his  Son  ? 
His  'own  Son?' — his  beloved  Son,  infinite  and 
omnipotent  as  himself — shall  he  be  '  delivered  ? ' 

1  Job.  xxxviii.  2.  8  Psalm  lxxii.  18  ;  Ixxxvi.  10. 

3  Psalm  cxxxv.  6. 
4  Dei  posse,  velle  est ;  et  non  posse,  nolle.  Quod  voluit,  et 
potuit,  etostendit. 

O 


194  THE    ATONEMENT. 

Yes,  '  he  delivered  him,'  because  he  would.  His 
will  is  that  which  openeth  the  windows  of  heaven, 
and  shutteth  them  again;  that  bindeth  and  looseth  ; 
that  planteth  and  rooteth  up ;  that  made  the  world, 
and  will  destroy  it.  His  will  it  was  that  humbled 
his  Son  ;  and  his  will  it  was  that  glorified  him.  He 
might  not  have  done  it,  might  not  have  delivered 
him.  He  might,  without  the  least  impairing  of 
his  justice,  have  kept  him  still  in  his  bosom,  and 
never  showed  him  to  the  world  :  but  as  '  of  his 
own  will  he  begat  us  of  the  word  of  truth,'  so  '  he 
delivered  up  his  Son,'  ftuXrjdeig,  '  because  he  would.' 
For  as  in  the  creation  God  might  have  made  man, 
as  he  made  the  other  creatures,  by  his  word  alone; 
yet  would  not,  but  wrought  him  out  of  the  earth, 
and,  like  a  potter,  formed  and  shaped  him  out  of 
the  clay  with  his  own  hands ;  so  in  the  great  work 
of  our  redemption,  he  did  not  send  a  Moses,  or  an 
angel,  but  '  delivered  up  his  own  Son,'  and  so  gave 
a  price  infinitely  above  that  which  he  bought; 
mortal  and  sinful  men  being  of  no  value  at  all,  but 
that  he  made  them.  He  paid  down,  not  a  talent 
for  a  talent,  but  a  talent  for  a  mite,  for  nothing : 
for  that  which  had  made  itself  worse  than  nothing: 
he  delivered  up  his  Son  for  those  who  stood  guilty 
of  rebellion  against  him  ;  and  thus  loved  the  world 
which  was  at  enmity  with  him.  Thus  was  he  pleased 
to  buy  his  own  will,  and  to  pay  dear  for  his  affec- 
tion to  us.  And  by  this  his  incomprehensible  love 
he  did  bound,  as  it  were,  his  almighty  power,  his 
infinite  wisdom,  and  his  unlimited  will :  for  here 
his  power,  wisdom,  and  .will  may  seem  to  have 
found  a  limit :  he  cannot  do,  he  cannot  find  out, 
he  cannot  wish  for  us,  more  than  what  he  hath 
done  in  this  delivery  of  his  Son.  How  should  this 
affect  and  ravish  our  souls  !    How  should  this  flame 


BY   ANTHONY   FARINDON,   B.D.  195 

of  God's  love  kindle  love  in  us  !  That  benefit  is 
great  which  preventeth  our  prayers;  that  is  greater, 
which  is  above  our  hope  ;  that  is  yet  greater,  that 
exceedeth  our  desires :  but  how  great  is  that,  which 
overrunneth  our  opinion,  yea,  swalloweth  it  up ! 
Certainly  had  not  God  revealed  his  will,  we  could 
not  have  desired  it;  but  our  prayers  would  have 
been  blasphemy — our  hope,  madness — our  wish, 
sacrilege — and  our  opinion,  impiety  ! 

And  now,  if  any  ask,  what  moved  his  will  ? 
Surely,  no  loveliness  or  attractiveness  in  the  ob- 
ject. In  it  there  was  nothing  to  be  seen  but  loath- 
someness and  deformity,  and  such  enmity  as  might 
sooner  move  him  to  wrath  than  compassion,  and 
make  him  rather  send  down  fire  and  brimstone 
than  his  Son.  That  which  moved  him  was  himself 
— his  own  bowels  of  mercy  and  compassion.  He 
loved  us  '  in  our  blood;'1  and,  loving  us,  he  bid  us 
'live ;'  and,  that  we  might  live,  '  delivered  up  his 
Son'  to  death.  His  mercy  was  the  only  orator  to 
move  his  will :  being  merciful,  he  was  also  willing 
to  help  us.  Mercy  is  all  our  plea,  and  it  was  all 
his  motive,  and  wrought  in  him  a  will,  a  cheerful 
will :  Karafcav^arat,  saith  St.  James,  mercy  ( re- 
joiceth  against  judgment.'2  Though  we  had  forgot 
our  duty,  yet  would  not  he  forget  his  mercy,  but 
hearkened  to  it,  and  would  not  shut  up  his  tender 
mercies  in  anger;3  which  is  a  metaphor  taken  from 
martial  affairs.  The  Septuagint  renders  it  awexeiv, 
to  make  a  trench  about,  and  besiege  it.  Now,  the 
goodness  of  God,  and  his  love  to  his  creature, 
would  not  surfer  him  thus  to  shut  up  his  tender 
mercies,  as  a  fort  or  town  is  shut  up,  to  be  under- 
mined, and  beat  up  and  overcome ;  but,  as  the  be- 

1  Ezek.  xvi.  6.  *  Jam.  iL  13.  3  Psalm  lxxvii.  9. 

o2 


196  THE    ATONEMENT. 

sieged  many  time  make  sallies  upon  the  enemy,  so 
the  love  and  mercy  of  our  God  brake  forth,  even 
through  his  anger,  and  gained  a  conquest  against 
the  legions  of  his  wrath.  Let  the  world  be  impure, 
let  men  be  sinners,  let  justice  be  importunate,  let 
power  be  formidable,  let  vengeance  be  ready  to 
fall ;  yet  all  must  fall  back,  and  yield  to  the  love 
and  mercy  of  God,  which  cannot  be  overcome,  nor 
bound,  nor  shut  up,  but  will  break  forth,  and 
make  way  through  all  opposition,  through  sin,  and 
all  the  powers  of  darkness,  which  besiege  and  com- 
pass it  about;  and  will  raise  the  siege,  and  drive  off 
and  chase  away  those  enemies  ;  and  to  conquer  sin 
will  deliver  up  his  Son  to  the  sinner.  And  this, 
saith  Aquinas,  was  (enigma  amoris,  the  riddle,  or 
rather  the  mystery  of  love,  to  pose  the^visdom  of 
the  world.  I  may  say,  being  love,  and  infinite,  it 
is  no  riddle  at  all,  but  plain  and  easy.  For  what 
can  love  do  that  is  strange  ?  What  can  it  do 
amiss  ?  That  which  moved  God  to  do  this,  showeth 
plainly  that  the  end  for  which  he  did  it  was  very 
good.  '  He  loved  us,'  is  the  best  commentary  on, 
'  he  delivered  his  Son  for  us;'  and  taketh  away  all 
scruple  and  doubt.  For,  if  we  can  once  love  our 
enemies,  it  is  impossible  but  that  our  bowels  should 
yearn  towards  them,  and  our  will  be  bent  and 
prone  to  raise  them  up  even  to  that  pitch  and  con- 
dition which  our  love  hath  designed ;  and,  if  our 
love  were  heavenly,  as  God's  is,  or  but  in  some  for- 
ward degree  proportioned  to  his,  we  should  find 
nothing  difficult,  account  nothing  absurd  or  mis- 
becoming, which  might  promote  or  advantage  their 
good :  if  our  love  have  heat  in  it,  our  will  will  be 
forward  and  earnest,  and  we  shall  be  ready  even  to 
lay  down  our  lives  for  them.     For  love  is  like  an 


BY    ANTHONY    FAR.IN0ON,    B.  D.  197 

artificial  glass,  which  when  we  look  through,  an 
enemy  appeareth  a  friend ;  disgrace,  honour ;  dif 
Acuities,  nothing.  When  God  saw  us  weltering  in 
our  blood,  his  love  was  ready  to  wash  us;  when 
we  ran  from  him,  his  love  ran  after  us  to  apprehend 
us;  when  we  fought  against  him  as  enemies,  his 
love  was  a  prophet :  '  Lo,  all  these  may  be  my 
children.'  What  speak  we  of  disgrace  ?  God's 
love  defendeth  his  majesty,  and  exalteth  the  humi- 
lity of  his  Son.  Love,  as  Plato  saith,  hath  this 
privilege,  that  it  cannot  be  defamed;  and  by  a 
kind  of  law,  hath  this  huge  advantage,  to  make 
bondage,  liberty;  disgrace,  honourable;  infirmity, 
omnipotent.  Who  can  stand  up  against  love,  and 
say,  "Why  didst  thou  this?"  Had  Marcion,  Pho- 
tinus,  and  Alius  well  weighed  the  force  and  privi- 
lege of  love,  they  would  not  have  denied  Christ  to 
be  the  Son  of  God,  because  God  delivered  him  up 
for  us,  but  would  have  seen  as  great  glory  in  his 
humility  as  in  his  glory,  and  would  have  fallen 
down  and  worshipped  God  and  man,  even  this 
crucified  Lord  of  life,  Jesus  Christ.  Love  will  do 
any  thing  for  those  whom  she  looketh  and  stayeth 
upon.  If  you  '  ask  a  coat,'  she  '  giveth  the  cloak 
also;'  if  you  'desire  her  to  go  a  mile,  she  will  go 
with  you  twain ;' *  and  is  never  weary,  though  she 
passes  through  places  of  horror  and  danger.  If 
you  be  in  the  most  loathsome  dungeon,  in  the 
valley  and  shadow  of  death,  she  forsaketh  you  not, 
but  will  go  along  with  you.  Must  the  Son  of  God 
be  delivered  ?  Love  sendeth  him  down.  It  was 
love  that  'bowed  the  heavens'  when  he  descended. 
Must  he  suffer?     Love  nailed  him  to  the  cross; 

1  Matt.  v.  40. 


198 


THE    ATONEMENT. 


and  no  power  could  do  it  but  love.  Must  he  be 
sacrificed  ?  Love  calleth  it  a  '  baptism/  and  is 
'  straitened,'  till  the  sacrifice  be  slain.1  Must  he 
die  ?  Must  the  Son  of  God  die  ?  Love  calls  it 
reXeibxriv,  his  *  perfection.'  *  So,  though  he  be  the 
Son  of  God,  though  we  were  his  enemies,  yet  love 
reconcileth  all  these  seeming  contradictions,  resolv- 
eth  every" doubt,  tuneth  these  jarring  strings,  and 
out  of  this  discord  maketh  that  melody  which  de- 
lighteth  both  men  and  angels,  and  God  himself; 
even  that  melody,  whereof  our  love  should  be  the 
resultance.  He  loved  us ;  and  then  the  conclusion 
follows  sweetly  and  naturally,  *  He  spared  not  his 
own  Son,  but  delivered  him  up.'  And  so  from  the 
person  we  pass  to  the  delivery  itself. 

II.  "  He  delivered,  and  spared  him  not."  The 
economy  and  glorious  dispensation  of  our  Lord 
and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ,  is  here  called  napalocriQ,  a 
'  delivery.'  And  delivered  he  was,  first,  into  the  vir- 
gin's womb.  That  was  a  strange  descent ;  and 
even  then,  at  his  birth,  began  his  passion.  Nasci 
se  palitur  ;3  he  suffered  himself  to  be  fashioned  in 
the  womb :  he  took  of  man  what  was  proper  and 
natural  to  him,  to  be  born,  and  die.  Here  he  was 
drawn  out  and  fitted,  made  an  object  for  the  malice 
of  men  and  the  rage  of  the  devil  to  "work  on  :  here 
he  was  made  a  mark  for  his  enemies  to  shoot  at. 
Here  he  got  a  back  for  the  whip,  flesh  to  be  plough- 
ed, a  face  to  be  spit  upon,  a  body  to  be  nailed  to 
the  cross,  and  an  heart  to  be  pierced.  Here  he  was 
built  up  as  a  temple,  to  be  '  beat  down  with  axes 
and  hammers,  with  misery  and  affliction.'  Yet  God 
thus  'delivered  him.'    But  further;   being  born, 

'  Luke,  xii.  50.  2  Heb.  ii.  10.         3  Tertull.  de  Patient 


BY   ANTHONY    FARINDON,    B.  D.  199 

what  was  his  whole  life,  but  delivery  from  sorrow 
to  sorrow,  and  from  misery  to  misery,  from  poverty 
to  shame,  from  derision  to  malice,  from  malice  to 
death  ?  This  was  the  pomp  and  ceremony  with 
which  he  was  brought  to  his  cross,  and  from  thence 
to  his  grave.  '  Deliver  me  not  to  the  will  of  mine 
enemies,'1  saith  David.  Behold,  Christ's  friends 
were  his  enemies.  What  creature  was  there  to 
whom  he  was  not  delivered  ?  Delivered  he  was  to 
the  angels — 'to  keep  him,'  you  will  say, 'in  all 
his  ways.'2  But  what  need  had  he  of  an  angel's 
assistance,  whose  wisdom  reached  over  all  ?  What 
needed  he  an  angel's  tongue  to  comfort  him,  who 
was  Lord  of  the  angels,  and  who  with  his  voice 
could  have  destroyed  the  universe  ?  What  need 
had  he,  who  could  turn  stones  into  bread,  yea, 
work  bread  out  of  nothing,  as  he  did  in  the  multi- 
plying of  the  loaves,  to  receive  alms  from  the  hand 
of  his  minister  ?  He  was  delivered  to  Joseph  and 
Mary,  to  whom  he  was  subject  and  obedient.3  De- 
livered he  was  to  an  occupation  and  trade.  He 
was  delivered  from  Annas  to  Caiaphas,  from  Caia- 
phas  to  Pilate,  from  Pilate  to  Herod,  from  Herod 
to  Pilate  again,  and  from  Pilate  to  the  Jews,  to  do 
with  him  what  they  pleased.  He  was  delivered  to 
all  the  creatures:  to  heat  and  to  cold;  to  the 
thorns,  which  gored  him ;  to  the  whip,  which  made 
long  furrows  in  his  flesh;  to  the  nails,  which 
fastened  him  ;  to  the  spear,  which  pierced  him  ;  to 
the  cross,  which  racked  him ;  to  the  grave,  which 
swallowed  him.  He  was  delivered  to  the  devil 
himself,  and  to  the  power  of  darkness.     There  was 


Psalm  xxvii.  12  2  Ibid.  xci.  11. 

3  Luke  i.  51. 


200 


THE    ATOM.  \;i  \T. 


no  creature,  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest,  to 
which  he  was  not  delivered.  He  was  delivered  in 
his  body  and  in  his  soul ;  in  every  part  of  his  body, 
even  in  those  which  seemed  free  from  pain.  His 
tongue  (which  his  enemies'  cruelty  affected  not — 
for,  though  he  was  man,  yet  had  he  nothing  of  the 
impatience  of  man)  complained  of  thirst:  he  said, 
'  I  thirst.' '  He  was  delivered  up  to  a  quick  and 
lively  sense  of  pain.  Many  times  extremity  of 
pain  taketh  pain  away,  and  it  is  lost  in  itself;  but 
Christ's  pain  quickened  his  sense.  The  more  sen- 
sible he  was,  the  more  he  suffered,  the  more  feeling 
he  had.  His  last  gasp  was  breathed  out  $wrrj 
peyaXr),  *  with  a  strong  voice."  Delivered  he  was 
to  envy,  which  '  delivered  him  ;'3  to  treachery, which 
betrayed  him ;  to  malice,  which  laid  on  sure  strokes; 
to  pride,  which  scorned  him;  to  contempt,  which 
spat  upon  him ;  to  all  those  furious  passions  which 
turn  men  into  devils.  Thus  was  our  blessed  Savi- 
our delivered,  not  only  to  men,  but  to  the  passions 
of  men,  to  the  wild  and  brutish  passions  of  his 
enemies,  yea,  to  the  rage  of  devils. 

Further  yet :  he  was  delivered  not  only  to  their 
passions,  but  to  his  own  also,  which  as  man  he 
carried  about  with  him  :  'H  <pvxv  fJ-»  rcrapcurcu,  '  My 
soul  is  troubled,'4  said  he.  He  was  ev  aywviq.,  '  in 
an  agony;'5  which  none  can  tell  what  it  is,  but  he 
that  hath  felt  it ;  and  none  ever  felt  such  an  agony 
but  he.  'AdtrifiovZi,  *  he  was  grievously  vexed.'0 
JJepiXv-n-og  eaiv  rj  $vy$,  '  his  soul  was  exceeding  sor- 
rowful.'7    These  several  expressions  the  evangelists 


1  John,  xix.  28.         2  Matt,  xxvii.  50.         3  Ibid,  xxvii.  18. 

4  John,  xii.  27.  5  Luke,  xxii  44.         6  Matt  xxvi.  37. 

7  lb.  v.  38. 


BY    ANTHONY   FARINDON,   B.  D  201 

give  us — '  trouble,'  1  vexation/  '  agony/  '  heaviness/ 
and  'sorrow/  in  his  soul.  These  were  the  bitter 
ingredients  which  filled  up  his  cup  so  full  that  he 
made  it  his  prayer  to  have  it  taken  out  of  his  hand.1 
The  consideration  of  which  hath  induced  some  to 
conceive  that  the  sense  of  pain  had  so  weakened 
his  intellectual  faculties  that  he  forgot  himself.* 
They,  however,  who  thus  interpret,  seem  not  well 
to  have  advised  with  their  reason,  that  would  leave 
wisdom  itself  without  the  use  of  it.  No  question, 
it  was  the  language  of  a  bleeding  heart,  and  the  re- 
sultance  of  grief.  For  grieve  Christ  did,  and  fear. 
He  who,  as  God,  could  have  commanded  a  legion  of 
angels,  as  man  had  need  of  one  to  comfort  him. 
He  was  delivered  up  to  passions,  to  afflict,  not  to 
swallow  him  up.  There  was  no  disorder,  no  jar 
with  reason,  which  was  still  above  them.  There 
was  no  sullenness  in  his  grief,  no  despair  in  his 
complaints,  no  unreasonableness  in  his  thoughts ; 
not  a  thought  rose  amiss,  not  a  word  was  mis- 
placed, not  a  motion  irregular.  He  knew  he  was 
not  forsaken,  when  he  asked,  '  Why  hast  thou  for- 
saken me  ?'3  The  bitterness  of  the  cup  struck  him 
into  a  fear.  When  his  obedience  called  for  it,  he 
prayed  indeed,  'Let  this  cup  pass  from  me.'4  But 
that  was  not  the  cup  of  his  cross  and  passion,  but  the 
cup  of  his  agony.  And  in  that  prayer  it  is  plain  he 
was  heard  ;  for  the  text  tells  us, '  there  appeared  an 
angel  unto  him  from  heaven  to  strengthen  him.'* 
Being  of  the  same  mould  and  temper  with  men,  he 
was  willing  to  receive  the  impressions  which  are  so 
visible  in  man,  of  sorrow  and  fear;  even  those  affec- 


1  Mark,  xiv.  36.  2  Calvin,  Harm,  in  loc. 

*  Matt,  xxvii.  46.        *  lb.  xxvi.  49.        5  Luke,  xxii.  43. 


202  THE    ATONEMENT. 

tions  which  are  seated  in  the  sensitive  part,  and 
without  which  misery  and  pain  have  no  tooth  at  all 
to  bite  us.  Our  passions  are  the  sting-  of  misery ; 
nor  could  Christ  have  suffered  at  all  if  he  had  been 
free  from  them.  If  misery  be  a  whip,  it  is  our  pas- 
sion and  fantasy  that  make  it  a  scorpion.  What 
could  malice  hurt  me,  if  I  did  not  help  the  blow  ? 
What  edge  hath  an  injury,  if  I  could  not  be  angry  ? 
What  terror  hath  death,  if  I  did  not  fear?  It  is 
opinion  and  passion  that  make  us  miserable :  take 
away  these,  and  misery  is  but  a  name.  You  touch 
not  the  stoic,  though  you  bray  him  in  a  mortar.1 
Delivered  then  was  the  Son  of  God  to  these  pas- 
sions— to  fear  and  to  grief.  These  strained  his 
body,  racked  his  joints,  stretched  his  sinews  :  these 
trickled  down  in  clots  of  blood,  and  exhaled  them- 
selves through  the  pores  of  his  flesh  in  a  bloody 
sweat.  The  fire  that  melted  him  was  his  fear  and 
his  grief. 

Is  there  yet  any  more  ?  or  can  the  Son  of  God 
be  delivered  further  ?  Delivered  he  was — not  to 
despair,  for  that  was  impossible,  not  to  the  torments 
of  hell,  which  could  never  seize  on  his  innocent 
soul;  but  to  the  wrath  of  God,  which  '  withered  his 
heart  like  grass,'  'burnt  up  his  bones  like  a  hearth,' 
and  'brought  him  even  to  the  dust  of  death.'8 
Look  now  upon  his  countenance — it  is  pale  and 
wan ;  upon  his  heart — it  is  melted  like  wax  ;  upon 
his  tongue — it  cleaveth  to  the  roof  of  his  mouth. 
What  talk  we  of  death  ?  The  wrath  of  God  is 
truly  tCjv  tyofiepuv  (pofiep&Tcuov,  the  terriblest  thing 
in  the  world — the  sting  of  sin,  which  is  the  sting  of 


1  Tunde  ;  Anaxarchum  enim  non  tundis. 
s   Psalm  cii.  3,  4  ;  xxii.  1 5. 


BY    ANTHONY    FARINDON,    B.  D.  203 

death.     Look  into  our  own  souls.     That  weak  ap- 
prehension of  it,  which  we  sometimes  have,  what  a 
night  and  darkness  doth  it  draw  over  us!  Nay,  what 
a  hell  doth  it  kindle  in  us !   What  torments  do  we 
feel — the  types  and  sad  representations  of  those  in 
the  bottomless  pit !     How  do  our  delights  distaste 
us,  and  our  desires  strangle  themselves !    What  a 
Tophet  is   the   world,    and  what   furies    are   our 
thoughts !     What  do  we  see  which  we  do  not  turn 
from  ?     What  do  we  know  which  we  would  not 
forget  ?    What  do  we  think  which  we  do  not  startle 
at  ?     Or,  do  we  know  what  to  think  ?     Now,  what 
rock  can  hide  us  ?     What  mountain  can  cover  us  ? 
We  are  weary  of  ourselves,  and  could  wish  rather 
not  to  be  than  to  be  under  God's  wrath.     Were  it 
not  for  this,  there  would  be  no  law,  no  conscience, 
no  devil ;  but  with  this,  the  law  is  a  killing  letter, 
the  conscience  a  fury,  and  the  devil  a  tormentor. 
But  yet  there  is  still  a  difference  between  our  ap- 
prehension and  Christ's.     For,  alas  !  to  us,  God's 
wrath  doth  not  appear  in  its  full  horror ;  for,  if 
it   did,  we   should   sooner  die   than   offend   him. 
Some  do  but  think  of  it ;  few  think  of  it  as  they 
should ;  and  they  that  are  most  apprehensive,  look 
upon  it  as  at  a  distance,  as  that  which  may  be  turned 
away ;  and  so,  not  fearing  God's  wrath,  *  treasure 
up  wrath  against  the  day  of  wrath.'     To  us,  when 
we  take  it  at  the  nearest,  and  have  the  fullest  sight  of 
it,  it  appeareth  but  as  the  cloud  did  to  Elijah's  ser- 
vant, *  like  a  man's  hand  ;'  but  to  Christ '  the  hea- 
vens were  black  with  clouds  and  winds,' '  and  it 
showered  down  upon  him  as  in  a  tempest  of  fire 
and  brimstone.     We  have  not  his  eyes,  and  there- 

1  1  Kings,  xviif.  44. 


204  THE    ATONEMENT. 

fore  not  his  apprehension  :  we  see  not  so  much  de- 
formity in  sin  as  he  did,  and  so  not  so  much  terror 
in  the  wrath  of  God.  It  were  impiety  and  blas- 
phemy to  think  that  the  blessed  martyrs  were  more 
patient  than  Christ;  cujus  natura patientia,  "whose 
very  nature  was  patience:"1  yet  who  of  all  that 
noble  army  ever  breathed  forth  such  disconsolate 
speeches  ?  God  indeed  delivered  them  up  to  the 
saw,  to  the  rack,  to  the  wrath  of  lions,  to  all  the 
engines  of  cruelty,  and  shapes  of  death  ;  but  did 
they  ever  cry  out,  "  they  were  forsaken  ?  "  He 
snatched  them  not  from  the  rage  of  the  persecutor 
by  a  miracle  ;  but,  behold  a  greater  miracle :  "  In 
all  their  torments  they  had  more  life  and  joy  in 
their  countenances  than  they  who  looked  on,  who 
were  more  troubled  with  the  sight  than  the  martyrs 
were  with  the  punishment."8  Their  torture  was 
their  triumph  ;  their  afflictions  were  their  melody. 
If  weak  they  were  made  strong.  "  Torments, 
racks,  flames,  and  the  last  enemy,  death  itself,  were 
but  a  recreation  and  refreshment  to  Christians,"3 
who  suffered  all  these  with  the  patience  of  a  stand- 
er-by.  But  what  speak  we  of  martyrs  ?  Divers 
sinners  (whose  ambition  never  reached  at  such  a 
crown,  but  rather  trembled  at  it)  have  been  deli- 
vered up  to  afflictions  and  crosses,  nay  to  the  anger 
of  God ;  but  never  any,  nay,  not  those  who  have 
despaired,  were  so  delivered  as  Christ.     We  may 

1  Tertull.  de  Patientia. 

2  Rident  superantque  dolores, 

Spectanti  similes. — Sil.  Ital.  lib.  1. 

3  Tormenta,  career,  ungulae, 
Stridensque  flammis  lamina, 
Atque  ipsa  pcenarum  ultima, 
Mors,  Christianis  ludus  est. 

Prudent.  Hymn,  in  laudem  Vincentii  Mar. 


BY    ANTHONY    FARINDON,    B.  D.  205 

say  that  the  traitor  Judas  felt  not  so  much  when  he 
went  and  hanged  himself.  For  though  Christ 
could  not  despair,  yet  the  wrath  of  God  was  more 
visible  to  him  than  to  those  that  do,  who  bear  but 
their  own  burdens,  whereas  he  lay  pressed  under 
the  sins  of  the  whole  world.  God  in  his  approaches 
of  justice,  when  he  cometh  toward  the  sinner  to  cor- 
rect him,  may  seem  to  go  like  the  consul  of  Rome, 
with  his  rods  and  his  axes  carried  before  him. 
Many  sinners  have  felt  his  rod  :  and  his  '  rod  is 
comfort ;  his  frown  favour ;  his  anger,  love ;  and  his 
blow  a  benefit.  But  Christ  was  struck,  as  it  were, 
with  his  axe.  Others  have  trembled  under  his 
wrath,  but  Christ  was  '  even  consumed  by  the 
stroke  of  his  hand.' l  Being  delivered  to  God's 
wrath,  that  wrath  delivereth  him  to  these  throes 
and  agonies, — delivereth  him  to  Judas ;  who  deli- 
vereth, nay,  betray eth  him  to  the  Jews ;  who  deli- 
ver him  to  Pilate  ;  who  delivered  him  to  the  cross ; 
where  the  Saviour  of  the  world  must  be  murdered, 
where  innocency  and  truth  itself  hangeth  between 
two  thieves.  But  his  soul  was  crucified  more  than 
his  body,  and  his  heart  had  sharper  nails  to  pierce 
it  than  his  hands  or  feet.  '  He  delivered  him,  and 
spared  him  not.' 

But,  to  rise  one  step  more  :  '  He  delivered,  and' 
in  a  manner,  '  forsook  him ;'  restrained  his  influ- 
ence, denied  relief,  withdrew  comfort,  stood  as  it 
were  afar  off,  and  let  him  fight  it  out  unto  death. 
He  ' looked,  and  there  was  none  to  help;'  even 
f  to  the  Lord  he  called,  but  he. heard  him  not/9 
'Avefio-qaE  tyiovrf  fXE-yaXy.  He  '  roared  out  for  the 
very  grief  of  his  heart,'3  and  'cried,  with  a  loud 

1  Psalm  xxxix.  10.       *  Isaiah,  lxiii.  5.       8  Psalm  xviii.  41. 


206  THE    ATONEMENT. 

voice,  My  God,  my  God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken 
me  ?' l  And  could  God  forsake  him  ?  When  he 
hung  upon  the  cross,  did  he  not  see  '  the  joy  that 
was  set  before  him?,s  Yes,  he  did;  but  not  to 
comfort,  but  rather  to  torment  him.  •  By  the  coun- 
sel of  the  Godhead  it  was  set  down  and  determined 
that  his  glory  should  add  to  his  punishment :' 3 
that  his  knowledge,  which  was  more  clear  than  a 
seraphim's,  should  increase  his  grief;  his  glory, 
his  shame;  his  happiness,  his  misery;  that  there 
should  not  only  be  vinegar  in  his  drink  and  gall  in 
his  honey,  and  myrrh  with  his  spices ;  but  that  his 
drink  should  be  vinegar,  his  honey,  gall,  and  all  his 
spices  as  bitter  as  myrrh  ;  that  his  flowers  should 
be  thorns,  and  his  triumph,  shame.  This  could 
sin  do  ;  and  can  we  love  it  ?  This  could  the  love  and 
the  wrath  of  God  do — his  love  to  his  creature  and 
his  wrath  against  sin.  And  what  a  delivery,  what 
a  desertion  was  this,  which  did  not  deprive  Christ 
of  strength,  but  enfeeble  him  with  strength  ;  which 
did  not  leave  him  in  the  dark,  but  punish  him  with 
light!  What  a  strange  delivery  was  that,  which 
delivered  him  up  without  comfort,  nay,  which  be- 
trayed and  delivered  up  his  comforts  themselves ! 
What  misery  equal  to  that  which  maketh  strength 
a  tormentor,  knowledge  a  vexation,  and  joy  and 
glory  a  persecution  ?  There  now  hangeth  his  sa- 
cred body  on  the  cross,  not  so  much  afflicted  with 
his  passion,  as  his  soul  was  wounded  with  compas- 
sion ;  with  compassion  on  his  mother;  with  com- 
passion on  his  disciples ;  with  compassion  on  the 
Jews,  who  pierced  him,  for  whom  he  prayeth  when 

1  Matt,  xxvii.  46.  8  Heb.  xii.  2. 

3  Altissimo  Divinitatis  consilio  actum  est,  ut  gloria  militare 
In  poenam. — Leo. 


BY   ANTHONY   FARINDON,    B.  D.  207 

they  mock  him ;  which  did  manifest  his  divinity 
as  much  as  his  miracles; — with  compassion  on  the 
temple,  which  was  shortly  to  be  levelled  with  the 
ground  ; — with  compassion  on  all  mankind ;  bear- 
ing the  burden  of  all,  dropping  his  pity  and  his 
blood  together  upon  them;  feeling  in  himself  the 
torments  of  the  blessed  martyrs,  the  reproach  of  his 
saints,  the  wounds  of  every  broken  heart,  the  po- 
verty, diseases,  and  affliction  of  all  his  brethren  to 
the  end  of  the  world ;  delivered  to  a  sense  of  their 
sins  who  feel  them  not,  and  to  a  sense  of  theirs  who 
groan  under  them  ;  delivered  up  to  all  the  miseries 
and  sorrows,  not  only  which  himself  then  felt,  but 
which  any  man,  which  all  men  have  felt  or  shall 
feel  to  the  time  the  trump  shall  sound,  and  he 
shall  come  again  in  glory.  The  last  delivery  was 
of  his  soul,  which  was  indeed  a  traditio,  a  yielding 
it  up,  a  voluntary  emission,  or  delivering  it  up 
into  his  Father's  hands.  He  preventeth  the  spear 
and  the  hand  of  the  executioner,  and  giveth  up 
the  ghost.  What  shall  I  say  ?  or  where  shall  I 
end  ?  Who  can  fathom  this  depth  ?  The  angels 
stand  amazed ;  the  heavens  are  hung  with  black ; 
the  earth  openeth  her  mouth,  and  the  grave  her's, 
and  yieldeth  up  her  dead  ;  the  veil  of  the  temple 
rendeth  asunder;  the  earth  trembleth,  and  the 
rocks  are  cleft.  But  neither  art  nor  nature  can 
reach  the  depth  of  this  wisdom  and  love :  no 
tongue,  neither  of  the  living  nor  of  the  dead,  nei- 
ther of  men  nor  angels,  is  able  to  express  it.  The 
most  powerful  eloquence  is  the  threnody  of  a  bro- 
ken heart;  for  there  Christ's  death  speaketh  itself, 
and  the  virtue  and  power  of  it  reflecteth  back 
again  upon  him,  and  reacheth  him  at  the  right 


208  THE    ATONEMENT. 

hand  of  God,  where  his  wounds  are  open,  his  me- 
rits vocal,  interceding  for  us  to  the  end  of  the 
world. 

We  have  now  past  two  steps  and  degrees  in  this 
scale  of  love,  with  wonder  and  astonishment,  and,  I 
hope,  with  grief  and  love:  we  have  passed  through 
a  field  of  blood  to  the  top  of  Mount  Calvary,  where 
the  Son  of  God,  the  Saviour  of  the  world,  is  nailed 
to  the  cross,  and,  being  lifted  up  upon  his  cross, 
looketh  down  upon  us,  to  draw  us  after  him. 
Look  then  back  upon  him  who  looketh  upon  us, 
whom  our  sins  have  pierced,  and  behold  his  blood 
trickling  down  upon  us ;  which  is  one  ascent  more, 
and  bringeth  in  the  persons  for  whom  he  was  de- 
livered : — First,  *  for  us ;'  secondly,  '  for  us  all.' 

III.  Now  that  he  should  be  delivered  '  for  us/ 
is  a  contemplation  full  of  delight  and  comfort,  but 
not  so  easy  to  digest.  For  if  we  reflect  upon  our- 
selves, and  there  see  nothing  but  confusion  and 
horror,  we  shall  soon  ask  the  question,  Why  '  for 
us?'  Why  not  for  the  lapsed  angels,  who  fell 
from  their  estate  as  we  did?  they,  glorious  spirits; 
we,  vile  bodies ;  they,  heavenly  spirits  ;  we,  of  the 
earth,  earthly,  ready  to  sink  to  the  earth,  from 
whence  we  came;  they,  immortal  spirits;  we,  as 
the  grass,  withered  before  we  grew.  Yet  he 
'  spared  not  his  Son'  to  spare  us ;  but  the  angels 
that  fell  '  he  cast  into  hell,'  and  '  chained  them 
up"  in  everlasting  darkness.' '  With  the  angels  God 
dealeth  in  rigour,  and  relenteth  not;  with  us,  in 
favour  and  mercy.  He  seeketh  after  us,  .and  lay- 
eth  hold  on  us,  being  gone  from  him  as  far  as  sin 

1  2  Pet.  ii.  4. 


BY    ANTHONY    FARINDON,   B.D.  209 

and  disobedience  could  carry  us  out  of  his  reach. 
It  was  his  love,  his  will,  to  do  so :  and  in  this  we 
might  rest.  But  divines  will  tell  us  that  man  was  a 
fitter  subject  of  mercy  than  the  angels,  because  the 
angels'  sin  was  more  spontaneous,  wrought  in  them 
by  themselves :  man  had ,  importunam  arborem, 
that  flattering  and  importuning  tree,  and  that  sub- 
tle and  seducing  serpent,  to  urge  and  sway  him 
from  his  obedience :  man  had  a  tempter;  the  angels 
were  both  the  temptation  and  tempters  to  them- 
selves :  man  took  in  death  by  looking  abroad  ;  but 
the  angels,  reflecting  upon  themselves,  gazed  so 
long  upon  their  own  beauty,  till  they  saw  it 
changed  into  horror  and  deformity;  and  the  of- 
fence is  more  pardonable,  when  the  motive  is  from 
without,  than  where  it  groweth  up  of  itself.  Be- 
sides, the  angels  did  not  all  fall ;  but  the  whole 
lump  of  mankind  was  leavened  with  the  same  lea- 
ven ;  and  pity  it  may  seem,  that  so  noble  a  crea- 
ture, made  after  God's  own  image,  should  be  ut- 
terly lost.  These  reasons,  with  others,  we  may 
admit ;  though  they  may  seem  rather  to  be  conjec- 
tures than  reasons,  and  we  have  no  such  light  in 
Scripture  to  give  them  a  fairer  appearance.  But 
the  Scripture  is  plain,  that  he  *  took  not  the  an- 
gels;' *  he  did  not  lay  his  hands  upon  them,  to 
redeem  them  to  liberty,  and  strike  off  their  bonds. 
And  we  must  go  out  of  the  world  to  find  the  rea- 
son, and  seek  the  true  cause  in  the  bosom  of  the 
Father,  nay  in  the  bowels  of  his  Son,  and  there  see 
the  cause  why  he  was  delivered  for  us,  written  in 
his  heart.  It  was  '  the  love  of  God  to  mankind.'  * 
And  what  was  in  mankind  but  enmity  and  hos- 

1  Heb.  ii.  16.  a  Tit.  iii.  4. 

P 


210  THE    ATONEMENT. 

tility,  sin  and  deformity  ?  which  are  no  proper 
motives  to  draw  on  love.  And  yet  God  loved  us, 
and  hated  sin,  and  made  haste  to  deliver  as  from 
it.  Dilexisti  me,  Domine,  plusquam  te,  quando 
mori  voluhti  pro  me,  saith  Augustine :  "Lord, 
when  thou  diedst  for  me,  thou  madest  it  manifest 
that  my  soul  was  dearer  to  thee  than  thyself.' 
Such  a  high  esteem  did  he  set  upon  a  soul,  which 
we  scarce  honour  with  a  thought,  but  so  live  as  if 
we  had  none.  For  us  men  then,  and  for  us  sin- 
ners, was  Christ  delivered.  The  prophet  Isaiah 
speaketh  it ;  and  he  could  not  speak  it  properly 
of  any  but  him  :  '  He  was  wounded  for  our  trans- 
gressions, he  was  bruised  for  our  iniquities/  *  So 
that  he  was  delivered  up,  not  only  to  the  cross  and 
shame,  but  to  our  sins,  which  nailed  him  to  the 
cross ;  which  not  only  crucified  him  in  his  hu-* 
mility,  but  crucify  him  still  in  his  glory,  now  he 
sitteth  at  the  right  hand  of  God ;  and  '  put  him  to 
shame,'  to  the  end  of  the  world.  Why  complain 
we  of  the  Jews'  malice  ?  or  Judas's  treachery  ?  or 
Pilate's  injustice  ?  We,  we  alone,  are  they  who 
crucified  the  Lord  of  life.  Our  treachery  was  the 
Judas  which  betrayed  him;  our  malice  the  Jew 
which  accused  him;  our  perjury  the  false  witness 
against  him;  our  injustice  the  Pilate  that  con- 
demned him.  Our  pride  scorned  him ;  our  envy 
grinned  at  him ;  our  luxury  spat  upon  him ;  our 
covetousness  sold  him.  Our  corrupt  blood  was 
drawn  out  of  his  wounds,  our  swellings  pricked 
with  his  thorns,  our  sores  lanced  with  his  spear, 
and  the  whole  '  body  of  sin'  stretched  out  and  cru- 
cified with  the  Lord  of  life.     He  '  delivered  him 

1  Isaiah,  liii.  6. 


BY    ANTHONY    FARINDON,    B.  D.  211 

up  for  us  sinners/  No  sin  there  is  which  his  biood 
will  not  wash  away,  but  final  impenitency,  which 
is  not  so  much  a  sin  as  the  sealing  up  of  the  body 
of  sin,  when  the  measure  is  full.  For  us  sinners — 
for  the  progeny  of  an  arch-traitor,  and  as  great 
traitors  as  he.  Take  us  at  our  worst ;  if  we  re- 
pent, he  was  '  delivered  for  us.'  And  if  we  do  not 
repent,  yet  he  may  be  said  to  be  *  delivered  for 
us ;'  for  he  was  delivered  for  us  to  that  end,  that  we 
might  repent.  For  us  sinners  he  was  delivered ; 
for  us,  '  when  we  were  without  strength ;'  for  us, 
when  we  were  '  ungodly/ l  So  we  were  consi- 
dered in  this  great  work  of  redemption.  And  thus 
high  are  we  gone  in  this  scale  and  ladder  of  love. 

There  is  one  step  more.  He  was  delivered  '  for 
us  all;' — all,  not  considered  as  elect  or  reprobate, 
but  as  men,  as  sinners  ;  for  that  name  will  take  in 
all;  for  'all  have  sinned/2  And  here  we  are 
taught  to  make  a  stand,  and  not  to  touch  too 
hastily.  '  For  all.'  This  some  will  not  touch  ; 
and  yet  they  do  touch  and  press  it  with  that  vio- 
lence that  they  press  it  almost  into  nothing ;  make 
'the  world'  not  'the  world,'  and"'  whosoever '  not 
'  whosoever,'  but  some  certain  men  ;  and  turn  '  all' 
into  '  a  few ;'  deduct  whom  they  please  out  of  '  all 
people,  nations,  and  languages,'  and  out  of  Chris- 
tendom itself;  leave  some  few  with  Christ  upon 
the  cross,  whose  persons  he  beareih,  whom  they 
call  the  elect — and  mean  themselves.  '  So  God 
loved  the  world  ;'3  that  is  the  elect,  say  they  :  they 
are  the  world — where  it  is  hard  to  find  them ;  for 
they  are  called  out  of  it.   If  the  elect  be  '  the  world' 

1  Rom.  v.  6,  8.  s  Rom.  v.  12. 

a  John,  iii.  16. 

p2      , 


212  THE    ATONEMENT. 

which  God  so  loved,  then  they  are  such  elect  as 
may  not  believe,  such  elect  as  may  perish,  and 
whom  God  will  have  perish  if  they  do  not  believe. 
It  is  true,  none  have  benefit  of  Christ's  death  but 
the  elect ;  but  from  hence  it  doth  not  follow  that 
no  other  might  have  had.  Theirs  is  the  kingdom : 
but  are  not  they  shut  out  now,  who  might  have 
made  it  theirs  ?  '  God,'  saith  St.  Peter,  '  would 
not  that  any  should  perish  ;'1  and,  *  God  is  the  Sa- 
viour of  all  men/  saith  St.  Paul,  '  but  especially  of 
them  that  believe  ;,s  all,  if  they  believe  and  repent; 
and  those  who  are  obedient  to  the  gospel,  because 
they  do.  The  blood  of  Christ  is  poured  forth  on 
the  believer ;  and  with  it  he  sprinkleth  his  heart, 
and  is  saved ;  the  wicked  trample  it  under  their 
feet  and  perish.  The  blood  of  Christ  is  sufficient 
to  wash  away  the  sins  of  the  world,  nay  of  a  thou- 
sand worlds.  Christ  paid  down  a  ransom  of  so  infi- 
nite a  value  that  it  might  redeem  all  that  are,  or 
possibly  might  be,  under  captivity.  But  none  are 
actually  redeemed  but  they  who  make  him  their 
captain,  and  do  as  he  commandeth ;  that  is,  believe 
and  repent.  In  this  all  agree — in  this  they  are 
brethren  ;  and  why  should  they  fall  out,  when  both 
uphold  the  privilege  of  the  believer,  and  leave 
the  rod  of  the  stubborn  impenitent  to  fall  upon 
him  ?  "  The  death  of  Christ  is  not  applied  to  all," 
say  some  :  *  It  is  not  for  all,"  say  others.  "  The 
virtue  of  Christ's  meritorious  passion  is  not  made 
use  of  by  all,"  say  some  ;  "  It  was  never  intended 
that  it  should,"  say  others.  And  the  event  is  the 
same  :  for  if  it  be  not  made  use  of  and  applied,  it 
is  as  if  it  were  not ;  as  if  it  had  never  been  obtained : 

1  2  Pet.  iii     i).  *  1  Tim.  iy.  10. 


BY    ANTHONY    FARINDON,   B.  D.  213 

only  the  unbeliever  is  left  under  the  greater  con- 
demnation, who  turned  away  from  Christ,  who 
spake  unto  him,  not  only  from  heaven,  but  from 
his  cross,  and  refused  that  grace  which  was  offered 
him;  which  could  not  befal  him  if  there  had  never 
been  any  such  overture  made.  For  how  can  one 
refuse  that  which  never  concerned  him  ?  how  can 
he  forfeit  that  pardon  which  was  never  sealed  ? 
how  can  he  despise  the  spirit  of  graee  which  never 
breathed  towards  him  ?  They  who  are  so  tender 
and  jealous  of  Christ's  blood,  that  no  drop  must 
fall  but  where  they  direct  it,  do  but  undermine  and 
shake  one  truth  with  another;1  set  up  the  parti- 
cular love  of  God  to  believers,  to  overthrow  his  ge- 
neral love  to  mankind  ;  confound  the  virtue  of 
Christ's  passion  with  its  effect,  and  draw  them  to- 
gether within  the  same  narrow  compass ;  bring  it 
under  a  decree,  that  it  can  save  no  more  than  it 
doth,  because  it  hath  its  bounds  set ; — '  hitherto  it 
shall  go,  and  no  further;'  and  was  ordained  to 
quicken  some,  but  to  withdraw  itself  from  others, 
as  shut  out  and  hid  from  the  light  and  force  of  it, 
from  having  any  title  to  it,  long  before  even  they 
saw  the  sun.  Thus  they  shorten  the  hand  of  God, 
when  it  is  stretched  out  to  ail;  bound  his  love, 
which  is  proffered  to  all ;  stint  the  blood  of  Christ, 
which  gusheth  out  upon  all ;  and  circumscribe  his 
mercy,  which  is  large  enough  to  cover  all.  And 
the  reason  is  no  better  than  the  position  :  To  make 
salvation  more  precious  and  estimable,  it  must  be 
rare.  *  Then  it  is  most  glorious,  when  it  is  a  pecu- 
liar, and  entailed  on  a  few.     Why  should  the  love 


1  Veritatem  veritate  concutere. 

8  Quod  vis  esse  charum,  effice  ut  sit  rarum. 


214  THE    ATONEMENT. 

of  God  be  a  common  thing  ?  I  answer,  why  should 
it  not  be  common,  since  he  is  pleased  to  have  it  so  ? 
Why  should  we  cast  away  so  many,  to  endear  a 
few  ?  Can  there  be  any  glory  in  that  privilege 
which  is  writ  with  the  blood  of  so  many  millions  ? 
Why  should  not  God's  love  be  common,  since  he 
would  have  it  not  only  common,  but  communicated 
to  all,  and  expresseth  himself  as  one  grieved,  and 
troubled,  and  -angry,  because  it  is  not  so  ?  Why 
should  we  fear  God's  love  should  be  cast  away  by 
being  proffered  to  many  ?  His  love  of  friendship 
and  complacency,  to  those  whom  he  calleth  his 
friends,  cannot  be  lost,  but  is  as  eternal  as  himself: 
it  assisteth  and  upholdeth  them,  and  will  crown 
them  everlastingly.  Nor  is  his  general  love  of  good 
will  and  affection  lost,  though  it  be  lost :  for  it  is 
even  with  him,  even  when  the  wicked  are  in  hell. 
Christ's  blood  is  ever  in  the  flow,  though  there  be 
but  few  that  take  the  tide,  and  are  carried  along 
with  it.  God's  goodness  is  larger  than  his  benefi- 
cence. '  He  doth  not  do  what  good  he  can  ;  or 
rather,  he  doth  not  do  what  good  he  would ;  be- 
cause we  fall  back,  and  will  not  receive  it.  We 
will  not  suffer  him  to  be  good  ;  we  will  not  suffer 
him  to  be  merciful ; .  we  will  not  suffer  him  to  save 
us.  *  This  is  the  condemnation  of  the  world,  that 
light  came  into  the  world,  and  men  loved  dark- 
ness more  than  light.  s  The  philosopher  will  tell 
us,  that  the  Indians  live  at  the  Very  rising  of  the 
sun,  yet  their  bodies  are  black  and  swarthy,  and 
resemble  the  night.3     So,  many  there  be  who  live 

1  Plus  est  bonitas  Dei  quam  beneficentia. 
8  John,  iii.  19. 

3  Ad  nascentem  solem  siti  sunt,   tamen    in    corpore  color 
noctis  est. — Apul.  Flor.  i. 


BY   ANTHONY   FARINDON,   B.  D.  215 

ti  the  very  region  of  light,  where  the  beams  fall 
upon  them  warm  and  pure,  and  are  darted  at  their 
very  eyes,  and  yet  they  remain  the  children  of 
darkness.  "  Christ  was  delivered  for  all,  is  a  true 
proposition  :  it  is  infidelity  alone  that  can  make  it 
heretical." l  And  yet  it  is  true  still,  though  to  him 
that  believeth  not  it  is  of  no  more  use  than  if  it  were 
false.  He  was  delivered  for  thee ;  but  thou  wilt 
not  receive  him.  His  passion  is  absolute ;  but 
thou  art  impenitent.  He  died  for  Judas,  who  be- 
trayed him;  but  will  not  save  Judas,  that  de- 
spaired and  hanged  himself.  Infidelity  and  im- 
penitency  are  the  worst  restrictives,  that  limit  and 
draw  down  to  particulars  a  proposition  so  profit- 
ably general,  and  bound  so  saving  a  universal; 
that  contract  and  sink  all  into  a  few. 

To  conclude  this.  Christ  hanging  on  the  cross 
looketh  upon  all ;  but  all  do  not  cast  an  eye,  and 
look  up  in  faith  upon  him.  He  was  delivered  to 
deliver  all;  but  all  will  not  be  delivered.  Our 
whole  nature  is  united  in  Christ's  person  ;  not  the 
persons  of  a  few,  but  our  whole  nature :  and  our 
whole  nature  is  of  compass  large  enough  to  take  in 
all.8  And  in  that  common  nature  of  man  he 
offered  up  himself  on  the  cross  for  the  sin  of  all, 
that  he  might  '  take  away  the  sin  of  the  world* 3 — 
destroy  the  very  species  and  being  of  it.  Which 
though  it  be  not  done,  cannot  be  imputed  to  any 
scantiness  or  deficiency  of  virtue  in  his  blood, 
which  is  of  power  to  purge  out  sin  wherever  it  is, 
if  the  heart  that  fostereth  sin  be  ready  and  willing 

1  Facit  infidelitas  multorum  ut   Christus  non  pro  omnibus 
moriatur,  qui  pro  omnibus  mortuus  est. — S.  Ambros. 
*  Omnis  natura  nostra  in  Christi  hypostasi. 
3  John,  i.  29. 


216  THE    ATONEMENT. 

to  receive  and  apply  it.  And  in  this  common  na- 
ture of  man  (not  from  Abraham  or  David  only, 
as  St.  Matthew,  but  even  from  the  first  man  Adam 
himself,  as  St.  Luke  carrieth  up  his  genealogy) 
did  Christ  offer  up  himself  upon  the  cross.  And 
in  this  common  nature  he  presented  himself  be- 
fore his  Father.  And  now  God  looketh  upon 
Christ  and  mankind  as  our  eye  doth  upon  light, 
and  colours,  which  cannot  be  seen  without  light. 
Before  this  '  light  came  into  the  world/  we  were 
covered  over  with  darkness  and  deformity,  and 
God  could  not  look  upon  us  but  in  anger;  but 
through  this  common  light  we  may  be  seen  and  be 
beloved,  we  may  be  seen  with  pleasure.  For  as 
God  is  delighted  in  his  Son,  so  in  him  he  is  '  well 
pleased'  in  those  '  sons  which  he  shall  bring  with 
him  to  glory.'1  But  if  we  will  fully  withdraw 
ourselves  from  this  light,  then  doth  '  his  soul  hate 
us.' 2  Christ  is  ■  the  brightness  of  his  glory'3 — light 
enough  for  God  to  look  through  upon  a  thousand 
worlds  multiplied  a  thousand  times.  And  if  we 
do  not  hide  ourselves  from  it,  hide  ourselves  in  the 
caverns  of  the  earth — in  the  world  ;  if  we  do  not 
drown  ourselves  in  the  bottom  of  the  sea — in  the 
deluge  of  our  lusts;  if  we  do  not  bury  ourselves 
alive  in  stubborn  impenitency ;  if  we  do  not  stop 
up  all  the  passages  of  our  souls;  if  we  do  not 
still  '  love  darkness,'  and  '  make  it  a  pavilion 
round  about  us;'4  he  will  look  upon  us  through 
this  light,  and  look  lovingly  upon  us  with  favour 
and  affection.  He  will  look  upon  us  as  his  pur- 
chase; and  he  that  'delivered  his  Son  for  us  will 


1  Heb.  ii.  10.  9  Psalm  xi.  5. 

3  Heb.  1.  3.  *  Psalm  xviii.  2. 


BY    ANTHONY   FARINDON,  B.  D.  217 

with  him  also  freely  give  us  all  things  :y — which  is 
the  end  of  all,  the  end  of  Christ's  being  delivered, 
and  offereth  itself  to  our  consideration  in  the  last 
place. 

TV.  God    '  delivered,'  God   •  sent/  God    '  gave* 
his  Son.     All  these  expressions  we  find  to  make 
him    a   gift.     He   is  'the  desire/   and    he   is   the 
riches    'of  all  nations.'1      As   whatsoever  we    do 
we  must  do ;  so  whatsoever  we  have,  we  receive  in 
his  name.     '  The  name  of  Jesus/  said  St.  Peter,  of 
the  impotent  man,  '  hath  made  this  man  strong.' 8 
By  his  name  we   are  justified;  by  his  name  we 
are  sanctified ;   by  his  name  we  shall  enter  into 
glory.     With    him   we   have   all    things ;  for   '  in 
him  are  all  the  treasures  of  riches  and  wisdom.'3 
We  may  think  of  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth  and 
the  glory  of  them ;  but  these  come  not  within  the 
compass,  nor  are  they  to  be  reckoned  amongst  his  do- 
nations. For,  as  the  naturalists  observe  of  the  glory 
of  the  rainbow,  that  it  is  wrought  in  our  eye,  and  not 
in  the  cloud,  and  that  there  is  no  such  pleasing  va- 
riety of  colours  there  as  we  see ;  so  the  pomp  and 
riches  and  glory  of  this  world  are  of  themselves 
nothing,  but  are  the  works  of  our  opinion,  and  the 
creations   of    our  fancy,    and    have    no  worth  or 
price  but  what  our  lusts  and  desires  set  upon  them. 
It  is  our  luxury  which  hath  raised  the  market,  and 
made  them  valuable  and  in  esteem,  which  of  them- 
selves have  nothing  to  recommend  them  and  set 
them  off.4     My  covetousness  maketh  that  which  is 
but  earth  a  god  ;  my  ambition  maketh  that  which 
is  but  air  an  heaven ;  and  my  wantonness  walketh 


Hag.  ii.  7.  a  Acts,  iii.  16.  3  Col.  ii.  3 

4  Luxuria  his  pretium  fecit. 


218  THE    ATONEMENT. 

in  the  midst  of  pleasures  as  in  a  paradise.  There 
is  no  such  things  as  riches  and  poverty,  honour  and 
meanness,  trouble  and  pleasure ;  but  we  have  made 
them,  and  we  make  the  distinction.  There  are  no 
such  plants  grow  up  in  this  world  of  themselves; 
but  we  set  them  and  water  them,  and  they  spread 
themselves,  and  cast  a  •  shadow,'  and  we  walk  in 
this  shadow,  and  delight  or '  disquiet  ourselves  in 
vain.'1  How  many  heroic  persons  lie  in  chains, 
whilst  folly  and  baseness  walk  at  large  ?  And  no 
doubt  there  have  been  many  who  have  looked 
through  the  paint  of  the  pleasures  of  this  life,  and 
beheld  them  as  monsters ;  and  then  made  it  their 
pleasure  and  triumph  to  contemn  them.  And  yet 
we  will  not  quite  exclude  and  shut  out  riches  and 
the  things  of  this  world  from  the  sum :  for  with 
Christ  they  are  something ;  and  they  are  then  most 
valuable  when  for  his  sake  we  can  fling  them 
away.  It  is  he  alone  that  can  make  riches  a  gift, 
and  poverty  a  gift ;  honour  a  gift,  and  dishonour  a 
gift ;  pleasure  a  gift,  and  trouble  a  gift ;  life  a  gift, 
and  death  a  gift.  By  this  power  they  are  recon- 
ciled and  drawn  together,  and  are  but  one  and  the 
same  thing.  If  we  look  up  into  heaven,  there  we 
shall  see  them  in  a  near  conjunction,  even  the  poor 
lazar  ■  in  the  rich  man's  bosom.'8  In  the  night 
there  is  no  difference  to  the  eye  between  a  pearl 
and  a  pebble,  between  the  choicest  beauty  and 
most  abhorred  deformity.  In  the  night  the  deceit- 
fulness  of  riches  and  the  glory  of  affliction  lie  hid 
and  are  not  seen,  or  appear  in  a  contrary  shape; — 
in  the  false  shape  of  terror,  where  it  is  not ;  or  of 
glory,  where  it  is  not  to  be  found.     But  when  the 

1  Psalm  xxxix.  6.  2  Luke,  xvi.  23. 


BY    ANTHONY    FARINDON,    B.  D.  219 

light  of  Christ's  countenance  shineth  upon  them, 
then  they  are  seen  as  they  are ;  and  we  behold  so 
much  deceitfulness  in  the  one  that  we  dare  not 
trust  them,  and  so  much  hope  and  advantage  in  the 
other,  that  we  begin  to  rejoice  in  them,  and  so 
make  them  both  conducible  to  that  end  for  which 
he  was  delivered,  and  our  convoys  to  happiness. 

f  All  things'  is  of  a  large  compass,  large  enough 
to  take  in  the  whole  world.  But  then  it  is  the 
world  transformed  and  altered,  the  world  conquered 
by  faith,  the  world  in  subjection  to  Christ.  'All 
things  are  ours,'  when  'we  are  Christ's.'1  There 
is  a  civil  dominion  and  right  to  these  things ;  and 
this  we  have  by  right  of  creation,  for  'the  earth 
is  the  Lord's,'  and  he  hath  given  it  to  the  sons 
of  men.  And  there  is  an  evangelical  dominion ; 
not  the  power  of  having  them,  but  the  power 
of  using  them  to  God's  glory ;  that  they  may 
be  a  gift:  and  this  we  have  by  right  of  adop- 
tion, as  the  sons  of  God,  begotten  in  Christ.  Christ 
came  not  into  the  world  to  purchase  it  for  us, 
or  instate  us  in  it.  He  did  not  suffer,  that  we 
might  be  wanton  ;  nor  was  poor,  that  we  might  be 
rich  ;  nor  was  brought  to  the  dust  of  death,  that  we 
might  be  set  in  high  places.  Such  a  Messiah  did 
the  Jews  look  for;  and  such  a  Messiah  do  some 
Christians,  worse  than  the  Jews,  frame  to  them- 
selves ;  and  in  his  name  they  '  beat  their  fellow- 
servants,'2  and  strip  them,  deceive  and  defraud 
them,  because  they  fancy  themselves  to  be  his, 
'  in  whom  there  was  found  no  guile.'  They  are 
in   the  world   as   the  mad  Athenian  was   on  the 

1  1  Cor.  iii.  22,  23.  2  Matt.  xxiv.  49. 


220  THE   ATONEMENT. 

shore ;  every  ship,  every  house,  every  lordship  is 
theirs.  And  indeed,  they  have  as  fair  a  title  to 
their  brother's  estate  as  they  have  to  the  king- 
dom of  heaven;  for  they  have  nothing"  to  show 
for  either.  St.  Paul  calleth  the  devil  the  god  of 
this  world  ;  and  these  in  effect  make  him  the  savi- 
our of  the  world ;  for,  as  if  he  had  been  lifted  up 
and  nailed  to  the  cross  for  them,  to  him  every  knee 
doth  bow,  nor  will  they  receive  the  true  Messiah- 
but  in  this  shape.  They  conceive  him  giving  gifts 
unto  men;  not  spiritual,  but  temporal;  not  the 
graces  of  the  Spirit,  humility,  meekness,  and  con- 
tentedness ;  but  silver  and  gold  :  dividing  inherit- 
ances, removing  of  land-marks,  giving  to  Ziba  Me- 
phibosheth's  land  ;  making  not  saints,  but  kings 
upon  the  earth.  Thus  they  of  the  church  of  Rome 
have  set  it  down  for  a  positive  truth,  that  all  civil 
dominion  is  founded  in  grace,  that  is,  in  Christ ;  a 
doctrine  which  bringeth  with  it  a  pick-lock  and  a 
sword,  and  giveth  men  power  to  spoil  whom  they 
please,  to  take  from  them  that  which  is  theirs 
either  by  fraud  or  by  violence,  and  to  do  both  in 
the  name  and  power  of  Christ.  But  let  no  man 
make  his  charter  larger  than  it  is.  In  the  gospel 
we  find  none  of  such  trti  extent  as  may  reach  to 
every  man,  to  every  corner  of  the  earth ;  as  may 
measure  out  the  world,  and  put  into  our  hands 
any  part  of  it  that  either  our  wit  or  our  power  can 
take  in.  Christ  never  drew  any  such  convey- 
ance ;  the  gospel  brought  no  such  tidings.  But 
when  honest  labour  and  industry  have  brought 
riches  in,  Christ  setteth  a  seal,  imprinteth  a  blessing 
on  them,  sanctifieth  them  unto  us  by  the  word  and 
prayer ;  and  so  maketh  them  ours,  our  servants  to 


BY    ANTHONY    FARINDON,    B.  D.  221 

minister  unto  us,  and  our  friends  to  promote  us 
unto  '  everlasting  habitations.' l 

Our  charter  is  large  enough,  and  we  need  not  in- 
terline it  with  those  glosses  which  the  flesh  and  the 
love  of  the  world  will  soon  suggest.  With  Christ  we 
have  '  all  things'  which  work  to  that  end  for  which 
he  was  delivered.  We  have  his  commands,  which 
are  the  pledges  of  his  love :  for  he  gave  us  them  that 
he  might  give  us  more,  that  he  might  give  us  a  crown. 
We  have  his  promises  of  immortality  and  eternal 
life.  Faciet  hoc  :  nam  qui  prbmisit  est  potens :  '  he 
shall  do  it,  for  he  is  able  to  perform  it.'  With  him 
every  word  shall  stand.  He  hath  given  us  faith 
(that  is  the  gift  of  God)  to  apprehend  and  receive 
the  promises;  and  hope, to  lift  us  up  unto  them.  He 
hath  given  us  his  pastors  to  teach  us  (that  is  scarce 
looked  upon  as  a  gift:  but  then)  he  hath  given  us 
his  angels  to  minister  unto  us,  He  hath  given  us 
his  Spirit,  and  filled  us  with  his  grace,  if  we  will 
receive  it ;  which  will  make  his  commands,  which 
are  now  grievous,  easy  ;  his  promises,  which  are 
rich,  profitable :  which  may  carry  us  on  in  a  regu- 
lar and  peaceable  course  of  piety  and  obedience ; 
which  is  our  angel,  which  is  our  God  ;  and  we  call 
it  grace.  All  these  things  we  have  with  Christ. 
And  the  apostle  doth  not  only  tell  us  that  God 
doth  give  us  them ;  but,  to  put  it  out  of  doubt, 
challengeth,  as  it  were,  the  whole  world  to  show  how 
it  should  be  otherwise  :  '  how  will  he  not  with  him 
also  freely  give  us  all  things  ?'  This  question 
addeth  energy  and  weight,  and  emphasis,  and 
maketh  the  position  more  positive,  the  affirmation 

1  Luke,  xxv.  9. 


222  THE    ATONEMENT. 

more  strong,  and  the  truth  of  it  more  persuasive 
and  convincing.  '  Shall  he  not  give  us  all  things?' 
It  is  impossible  but  he  should.  It  is  more  possi- 
ble for  '  a  city  upon  a  hill  to  be  hid,' '  than  for  him 
to  hide  his  favour  from  us ;  more  possible  for  heaven 
to  sink  into  hell,  or  for  hell  to  raise  itself  up  to 
God's  mercy-seat,  than  for  him  to  withhold  any 
thmg  from  them  to  whom  he  hath  given  his  Son. 
Impossible  it  is,  c2»c  ovk  'ivkoyov,  as  **  most  incon- 
venient," as  that  which  is  against  his  wisdom  and  his 
justice  and  his  goodness,  and  u>g  a/3«X^rov,  as  "ab- 
horrent to  his  will,"  to  deny  us  any  thing.  In  brief, 
if  the  ?  earth'  be  not '  as  iron,' '  the  heavens  cannot 
'be  as  brass.'8  God  cannot  but  give  when  we  are 
fit  to  receive ;  and  in  Christ  we  are  made  capable. 
When  he  descendeth,  mercy  descendeth  with  him  in 
full  shower  of  blessings,  to  make  our  souls  as  the 
paradise  of  God,  to  quicken  our  faith,  to  rouse  up 
our  hope.  And  in  this  light,  in  this  assurance,  in 
this  heaven,  we  are  bold,  with  St.  Paul,  to  put  up  the 
question  against  all  doubts,  all  fears,  all  temptations 
that  may  assault  us  :  '  He  that  spared  not  his  own 
Son,  but  delivered  him  up  for  us  all,  how  shall  he 
not  with  him  also  freely  give  us  all  things  ?' 

And  now  we  have  passed  up  every  step  and  de- 
gree of  this  scale  and  ladder  of  love,  and  seen 
Christ  delivered  and  nailed  to  the  cross.  And  from 
thence  he  looked  down,  and  speaketh  to  us  to  the 
end  of  the  world.  "  The  cross  on  which  he  suf- 
fered was  the  chair  of  his  profession."3  And  from 
this  chair  we  are  taught  humility,  constant  patience, 

1  Matt.  v.  14.  8  Deut.  xxviii.  23. 

3  Crux  patientis  fuit  cathedra  docentis. 


BY    ANTHONY   FARINDON,   B.  D.  223 

perfect  obedience,  an  exact  art  and  method  of 
living  well,  drawn  out  in  several  lines.  What  was 
ambitiously  said  of  Homer,  that  if  all  sciences 
were  lost,  they  might  be  found  in  him,  may  most 
truly  be  said  of  Christ's  cross  and  passion:  that 
if  all  the  characters  of  innocency,  humility,  obe- 
dience, love,  had  been  lost,  they  might  here  be 
found  in  libro  vita  Agni,  in  the  book  of  the  life — 
nay,  of  the  death — of  '  the  Lamb,  slain  from  the 
foundation  of  the  world  ; ' '  yet  now  nailed  to  the 
cross. 

Let  us  then,  with  love  and  reverence,  look  upon 
him  who  thus  looked  upon  us.  Let  us  put  on  our 
crucified  Jesus,  that  is,  as  Chrysostom, "  every  virtue" 
—his  humility,  his  patience,  his  obedience ;  and  so 
'  bear  about  with  us  the  dying  of  our  Lord,'8  and  draw 
the  picture  of  a  crucified  Saviour  in  ourselves.  To 
this  end  was  he  delivered  up  for  us,  to  this  end  we 
must  receive  him,  that  we  may  glorify  God,  as  he 
hath  glorified  him  on  earth.  For  God's  glory  and 
our  salvation  are  twisted  together  and  wrought  as 
it  were  in  the  same  thread,  and  linked  together  in 
the  same  bond  of  peace.  \  I  will  deliver  thee,  and 
thou  shalt  glorify  me;'3  thus  it  runneth;  and  it 
runneth  on  evenly  in  a  stream  of  love. 

Oh  !  how  must  it  needs  delight  him  to  see  his 
gift  prosper  in  our  hands  ;  to  see  us  delivering  up 
ourselves  to  him  who  was  thus  *  delivered  for  us;' 
to  see  his  purchase,  those  who  were  bought  with 
this  price,  made  his  *  peculiar  people.'  *  Lift'  then 
'up  the  gates'  of  your  souls,  'that  this  King  of 


1  Rev.  xiii.  8.  s  2  Cor.  iv.  10. 

3  Psalm  1.  15. 


224  THE    ATONE  MENT, 

glory  may  come  in.'1  If  you  seek  salvation,  you 
must  seek  the  glory  of  God;  and  if  you  seek  the 
glory  of  God,  you  shall  find  it  in  your  salvation. 
Thou  mayest  cry,lo !  "  Here  it  is,"  or,  "There  it  is  ;" 
— but  here  it  is  found.  The  few  may  seek  salvation 
in  the  law ;  the  superstitious,  in  ceremony  and  bodily 
exercise;  the  zealot  in  the  fire  and  the  whirlwind  ; 
the  fantastic  lazy  Christian,  in  a  thought,  in  a 
dream ;  and  the  profane  libertine  in  hell  itself: 
but  then,  then  alone  we  find  it,  when  we  meet  it 
in  conjunction  with  the  glory  of  God,  which 
shineth  most  gloriously  in  a  crucified  Christ,  and 
in  an  obedient  Christian  made  conformable  to  him, 
and  so  '  bearing  about  in  him  the  marks  of  the 
Lord  Jesus.'2 

To  conclude  then :  since  God  '  hath  delivered 
up  his  own  Son  for  us  all,'  and  (  with  him  given 
us  all  things,'  let  us  open  our  hearts  and  receive 
him ;  that  is,  believe  in  his  name  ;  that  is,  be 
faithful  to  him  ;  that  is,  love  him,  and  keep  his 
commandments,  which  is  our  conformity  to  his 
death.  And  then  he  will  give  us — what  will  he 
give  us  ?  He  will  heap  gift  upon  gift,  give  us 
'  power  to  become  the  sons  of  God.'3  Let  us  re- 
ceive Christ  in  his  shame,  in  his  sorrow,  in  his 
agony, — take  him  hanging  on  the  cross ;  take  him, 
and  take  a  pattern  by  him :  that,  as  he  was,  so 
we  may  be  troubled  for  our  sins;  that  we  may 
mingle  our  tears  with  his  blood ;  drag  sin  to  the 
bar;  accuse,  and  condemn  it;  revile  and  spit 
in  its   face,   at    the    fairest    presentment    it   can 


1  Pealm  xxiv.  7,  9.  »  Gal.  vi.  17- 

3  John,  i.  12. 


BY    ANTHONY   FARINDON,  B.  D.  226 

make ;  and  then  nail  it  to  the  cross,  that  it  may 
languish  and  faint  by  degrees,  till  it  give  up  the 
ghost,  and  die  in  us.  Then  lie  we  down  in  peace 
in  the  grave,  and  expect  a  glorious  resurrection ; 
when  we  shall  receive  Christ,  not  in  humility,  but 
in  majesty,  and  with  him  all  hia  riches  and  abun- 
dance, all  his  promises,  even  glory,  and  immortality, 
and  eternal  life. 


SERMON  XL 
ON  THE   CRUCIFIXION. 
BY  DR.  SOUTH. 

[Robert  South  was  born  in  1631,  and  died  in  1716. 


SERMON    XI. 


Isaiah,  Lilt.  8. 

For  the  transgression  of  my  people  was  he 

stricken. 

This  great  and  eloquent  prophet,  the  evangelist  of 
the  Jewish  church,  (as  without  any  impropriety  he 
may  be  called,)  from  the  13th  verse  of  the  foregoing 
chapter  to  the  end  of  this,  seems  wrapped  up  with 
the  contemplation  of  a  great  person  under  strange 
and  unusual  afflictions ;  whose  character,  with  all 
the  heights  of  rhetoric  which  the  genius  of  grief 
and  prophecy  together  could  raise  him  to,  he  here 
sets  himself  with  full  purpose  to  describe.  In  all 
which  description  there  is  no  one  passage,  which 
does  not  speak  something  extraordinary  and  super- 
natural of  the  person  described,  and  withal  repre- 
sent the  describer  of  it  in  the  highest  degree  of 
ecstacy  and  rapture ;  so  that  nothing  could  trans- 
cend the  height  of  the  expression,  but  the  sublimity 
of  its  subject.  For  still  it  fastens  upon  him  the 
marks  and  tokens  of  something  more  than  a  man, 
indeed  more  than  a  creature ;  ascribing  actions  to 
him,  which  surmount  any  created  power;  and  so 


230  ON    THE    CRUCIFIXION. 

visibly,  upon  all  principles  of  reason,  above  the 
strength  and  reach  of  the  strongest  arm  of  flesh, 
that  if  the  person  here  spoken  of  be  but  a  man,  I 
am  sure  it  requires  the  wit  of  more  than  a  man  to 
make  sense  of  the  prophecy.  Who  that  great  per- 
son therefore  was,  here  so  magnificently  set  forth  by 
the*  prophet,  is  the  thing  now  to  be  inquired  into.  In 
which  inquiry  we  shall  find  several  opinions,  and 
every  one  of  them  pretending  to  givcthe  right  in- 
terpretation of  the  place.  I  shall  reduce  them  all 
to  these  two : 

First,  the  opinion  of  the  ancient ; 

Secondly,  the  opinion  of  some  later,  interpreters. 

1.  As  for  the  ancient  interpreters  I  may  boldly 
and  truly  say,  that  it  was  the  general  sense  of  all 
the  old  Jewish  rabbies,  that  the  person  intended  in 
this  prophecy  was  the  Messias.  Take  the  affirma- 
tion of  rabbi  Alschech,  in  his  comment  upon  this 
prophecy  :  "  Our  rabbies  of  blessed  memory  unan- 
imously agree  with  the  received  tradition,  that  the 
Messias  is  here  spoken  of." ■  And  though  their  opi- 
nion of  the  temporal  greatness  of  their  Messias  might 
(if  any  thing)  tempt  them  to  draw  this  prophecy 
another  way,  (since  it  declares  the  low,  abject,  and 
oppressed  condition  of  the  person  here  treated  of,) 
yet  to  show  that  a  suffering  Messias  was  no  such 
paradox  in  the  divinity  of  the  ancient  Jewish 
rabbies,  it  was  a  constant  received  speech  among 
them,  that  dividing  all  the  afflictions  of  the  people 
of  God  into  three  parts,  one  third  was  to  fall  upon 
the  Messias. 

And  as  for  the  doctors  and  fathers  of  the  Chris- 
tian church,  they  do  all  with  one  unanimous  breath 

1  Rabbini  nostri  beatae  memoriae  uno  ore  statuunt  juxta 
receptam  traditionem  hie  de  rege  Messia  sermonem  esse. 


BY    DR.    SOUTH.  231 

declare  this  to  be  a  prophecy  of  the  Messias,  and 
this  Messias  to  be  Jesus  Christ.  And  so  full  are 
they  to  this  purpose,  that  Esaias,  upon  the  account 
of  this  prophecy,  is  styled  by  some  of  them  Evange- 
lista,  and  Paulus  Propheticus.  Nor  was  ever  the 
least  intimation  given  of  any  other  sense  of  it,  till, 
a  little  before  this  last  century,  a  new  Christianity 
has  endeavoured  to  get  footing  in  the  Christian 
world. 

2.  The  other  opinion  is  of  the  later  interpre- 
ters ;  amongst  whom  I  account  the  Jewish,  that  is, 
such  as  have  wrote  a  thousand  years  since  Christ's 
time ;  whose  opinion  in  this  matter  will  be  found 
to  have  this  eminent  property  of  falsity,  that  it  is 
very  various.  For  having  departed  from  the  old 
received  interpretation,  they  are  no  ways  agreed 
what  they  shall  substitute  in  the  room  of  it.  Some 
will  have  the  subject  of  this  prophecy  to  have  been 
the  people  of  Israel.  Some,  indefinitely,  any  just  or 
righteous  person.  Some  affirm  it  to  have  been  Josiah ; 
and  one  amongst  the  rest  will  needs  have  the  person 
here  spoken  of  to  have  been  the  prophet  Jeremy. 
The  authors  of  each  of  which  opinions  give  us  such 
insipid  stories  upon  this  chapter,  as  are  fitter  to  be 
ushered  in  with  the  grave  and  solemn  preface  of 
"  once  upon  a  time"  than  to  be  accounted  interpre- 
tations of  the  word  of  God. 

Taking  it  for  manifest,  therefore,  and  that  upon 
all  the  grounds  of  rational  and  unforced  interpreta- 
tion, that  the  person  here  spoken  of  was  the  Mes- 
sias, and  that  this  Messias  could  be  no  other  than 
Jesus  of  Nazareth,  the  great  Mediator  of  the  second 
covenant,  '  very  God,  and  very  man/  in  whom 
every  tittle  of  this  prophecy  is  most  exactly  verified, 
and  to  whom  it  does  most  peculiarly  and  incom- 


232  ON    THE    CRUCIFIXION. 

municably  agree  :  we  shall  proceed  now  to  take  an 
account  of  the  several  parts  of  the  text,  in  which 
we  have  these  three  things  considerable. 

First,  the  suffering  itself,  '  He  was  stricken.' 

Secondly,  the  nature  of  the  suffering,  which  was 
penal,  and  expiatory,  '  He  was  stricken  for  trans- 
gression:' and' 

Thirdly,  the  ground  and  cause  of  this  suffering, 
which  was  God's  propriety  in,  and  relation  to  the 
persons  for  whom  Christ  was  stricken,  implied  in 
this  word,  '  my  people.'  •  For  the  transgression  of 
my  people  was  he  stricken.' 

Of  each  of  which  in  their  order :  and 

I.  For  the  suffering  itself:  'He  was  stricken.' 
The  very  word  imports  violence  and  invasion  from 
without.  It  was  not  a  suffering  upon  the  stock  of 
the  mere  internal  weaknesses  of  nature,  which  car- 
ries the  seeds  and  causes  of  its  dissolution  in  its 
own  bowels,  and  so  by  degrees  withers  and  decays, 
and  at  length  dies,  like  a  lamp  that  for  want  of  oil 
can  burn  no  longer;  but  like  a  torch  in  its  full 
flame  beat  and  ruffled,  and  at  length  blown  out,  by 
the  breath  of  a  north  wind :  so  was  Christ  dealt 
with  in  the  very  prime  and  vigour  of  his  years, 
being  by  main  force  torn  and  stricken  out  of  the 
world.  Blows  did  the  work  of  time,  and  stripes 
and  spears  were  instead  of  age  to  put  a  period  to 
his  afflicted  life.  Now  the  greatness  of  this  suf- 
fering will  be  made  out  to  us  upon  these  three  ac- 
counts. 

First,  upon  the  account  of  the  latitude  and  ex- 
tent of  it. 

Secondly,  of  the  intenseness  and  sharpness  of 
it:  and, 

Thirdly,  of  the  person  inflicting  it. 


BY    DR.    SOUTH.  233 

1.  As  for  the  latitude  or  extent  of  it.  The 
blow  reached  every  part  of  his  humanity,  carrying 
the  grief  all  over,  till  by  an  universal  diffusion  of 
itself,  it  entered,  according-  to  the  Psalmist's  expres- 
sion, '  like  water  into  his  bowels,  or  like  oil  into 
his  bones.'  It  spread  itself  into  every  part  of  his 
body,  as  if  it  had  been  another  soul.  Nothing-  was 
free  from  suffering  that  could  surfer.  Suffering 
seemed  to  be  his  portion,  his  inheritance,  nay  his 
very  property.  Even  the  religion,  that  he  came 
to  propagate  and  establish,  was  a  suffering  religion; 
and,  by  the  severest  method  of  establishment,  he 
gave  the  first  and  the  greatest  instance  of  it  in  him- 
self. He,  who  would  recount  every  part  of  Christ 
that  suffered,  must  read  a  lecture  of  anatomy. 
From  the  crown  of  the  head  to  the  sole  of  the  foot 
there  was  nothing  but  the  traces  of  pain  and  suf- 
fering :  '  they  made  long  furrows  upon  his  back,' 
says  the  Psalmist ;  they  did  (as  it  were)  tear 
and  plough  up  his  innocent  body.  In  his  person 
we  might  have  seen  grief  in  its  height  and  supre- 
macy ;  grief  triumphant,  crowned  and  arrayed  in 
purple;  grief  reigning  and  doing  the  utmost  that 
it  was  able.  It  is  a  subject  too  well  known,  and 
too  frequently  discoursed  of,  to  make  descriptions 
of  the  thorns,  the  spears,  and  the  nails  that  acted 
their  several  parts  in  this  tragedy  ;  and  that  so, 
that  Jjie  very  narrative  of  our  Saviour's  passion 
cannot  but  beget  another  in  every  pious  hearer  of 
it.  But  when  we  have  said  the  utmost  of  his 
bodily  sufferings,  we  still  know  that  nature  has 
provided  a  support  able  to  mate  and  stand  up 
against  all  these;  for  the  strength  and  firmness  of 
a  resolved  mind  will  bear  a  man  above  his  infir- 
mity, as  the  breath  bears  up  the  body  from  sink- 


234  ON    THE    CRUCIFIXION. 

ing:  but  when  the  supporter  itself  fails,  when  the 
primum  vivens  and  the  ultimum  moriens  has  had  a 
mortal  blow,  and  the  iron  enters  into  the  vei;y 
soul,  then  baffled  nature  must  surrender  and  quit 
the  combat,  unless  seconded  and  held  up  by  some- 
thing greater  and  mightier  than  itself.  And  this 
was  our  Saviour's  condition.  There  was  a  sword 
which  reached  his  very  spirit,  and  pierced  his  soul, 
till  it  bled  through  his  body ;  for  they  were  the 
struggles  and  agonies  of  the  inward  man,  the  la- 
bours and  strivings  of  his  restless  thoughts,  which 
cast  his  body  into  that  prodigious  sweat.  For 
though  it  was  the  flesh  that  sweated,  it  was  the 
spirit  that  took  the  pains.  It  was  that,  which 
was  then  « treading  the  wine-press  of  God's  wrath 
alone,'  till  it  made  him  red  in  his  apparel,  and 
dyed  all  his  garments  with  blood.  What  thought 
can  reach,  or  tongue  express,  what  our  Saviour 
then  felt  within  his  own  breast!  The  image  of  all 
the  sins  of  the  world  for  which  he  was  to  sutler, 
then  appeared  clear  and  lively,  and  express,  to  his 
mind.  All  the  vile  and  horrid  circumstances  ol 
them  stood  (as  it  were)  particularly  ranged  before 
his  eyes  in  all  their  dismal  colours.  He  saw  how 
much  the  honour  of  the  great  God  was  abused  by 
them,  and  how  many  millions  of  poor  souls  they 
must  inevitably  have  cast  under  the  pressures  of  a 
wrath  infinite  and  intolerable,  should  he  net  have 
turned  the  blow  upon  himself:  the  horror  of  which 
then  filled  and  amazed  his  vast  apprehensive  soul ; 
and  those  apprehensions  could  not  but  affect  his  ten- 
der heart,  then  brimful  of  the  highest  zeal  for  God's 
glory,  and  the  most  relenting  compassion  for  the  souls 
of  men ;  till  it  fermented  and  boiled  over  with  trans- 
port and  agony,  and  even  forced  its  way  through  all 


BY   DR.    SOUTH.  235 

his  body  in  those  strange  ebullitions  of  blood,  not 
to  be  paralleled  by  the  sufferings  of  any  person 
recorded  in  any  history  whatsoever.  It  was  this 
which  drew  those  doleful  words  from  him,  '  My 
soul  is  exceeding  sorrowful/  &c.  TrepiXv-rroQ  t^iv  ij 
ipvxfi  /jut.  It  was  surrounded  and  (as  it  were)  be- 
sieged with  an  army  of  sorrows.  And  believe  it, 
his  soul  was  too  big,  and  of  too  strong  a  make  to 
bend  under  an  ordinary  sorrow.  It  was  not  any 
of  those  little  things,  which  make  us  put  the  finger 
in  the  eye,  as  loss  of  estate,  friends,  preferment, 
interest,  and  the  like ;  things  too  mean  to  raise  a 
tumult  in  the  breast  of  a  resolved  stoic,  and  much 
less  in  his,  who  both  placed  and  preached  happi- 
ness, not  only  in  the  want,  but  in  the  very  defiance 
of  them. 

And  now,  after  this,  his  agony  in  the  garden,  I 
need  not  much  insist  upon  the  wounds  given  his 
reputation  by  the  sword  of  a  blaspheming-  tongue, 
the  sharpest  of  all  others,  and  which,  like  a  poi- 
soned dagger,  hurting  both  with  edge  and  venom 
too,  at  the  same  time  both  makes  a  wound  and 
prevents  its  cure.  Even  a  guilty  person  feels  the 
sting  of  a  malicious  report ;  and  if  so,  much  more 
must  one  who  is  innocent ;  and  yet  infinitely  more 
must  he,  who  was  not  only  innocent,  but  innocence 
itself.  *  Reputation  is  tender,  and  for  it  to  be 
blown  upon  is  to  be  tainted  ;  like  a  glass,  the  clearer 
and  finer  it  is,  the  more  it  suffers  by  the  least 
breath.  And  therefore  for  him,  who  came  to  de- 
stroy the  kingdom  of  Satan,  to  be  traduced  as  a 
partner  with,  and  an  agent  for  Belzebub ;  for 
him,  whose  greatest  repasts  were  prayer  and  absti- 
nence, and  the  most  rigid  severities  upon  himself, 
to  be  taxed  as  a  wine-bibber  and  a  good  fellow ; 


236  ON   THE    CRUCIFIXION. 

for  him,  who  came  into  the  world,  both  in  life  and 
death  to  bear  witness  to  the  truth,  to  suffer  as  an 
impostor  and  a  deceiver,  what  could  be  more 
grievous  and  afflicting  to  a  great  innocence,  joined 
with  as  great  an  apprehension  ! 

However,  his  church  gains  this  great  advan- 
tage of  comfort  by  it,  that  the  worst  of  sufferings 
comes  sanctified  to  our  hands  by  the  person  of 
our  grand ,  example ;  who  was  reviled  and  slan- 
dered, and  tossed  upon  the  tongues  of  men,  before 
us.  A  greater  martyrdom  questionless  than  to  be 
cast,  as  the  primitive  Christians  were,  to  the  mouths 
of  lions,  which  are  tender  and  merciful  compared 
to  the  mouths  of  men  ;  whether  we  look  upon  that 
bitter  spirit  which  acted  in  those  Jews,  or  in  some 
Christians  now  a-days,  worse  than  Jews ;  men  who 
seem  to  have  outdone  all  before  them  in  the  arts 
of  a  more  refined  malice,  and  improved  calumny ; 
qualities  lately  sprung  up  out  of  the  stock  of  a 
spreading  atheism,  and  a  domineering,  reigning 
sensuality  ;  sins  now  made  national  and  authentic, 
and  so  much  both  judgment  and  mercy-proof,  that 
it  is  well  if  we  can  be  cured  without  being  cut  off. 
But  to  return  to  the  business  before  us.  We  have 
now  seen  the  first  thing  setting  forth  the  greatness 
of  this  suffering ;  to  wit,  the  latitude  and  extent  of 
it ;  as  that  it  seized  both  body  and  soul,  and  every 
part  and  faculty  of  both. 

2.  The  next  thing  declaring  its  greatness  was 
the  intenseness  and  sharpness  of  it.  We  have 
seera  already  how  far  it  went,  we  are  now  to  con- 
sider how  deep.  It  fell  not  on  him  like  a  dew  or 
mist,  which  only  wets. the  surface  of  the  ground, 
but  like  a  pouring  soaking  rain,  which  descends 
into  the  very  bowels  of  it.  There  was  pain  enough  in 


BY    DR.    SOUTH.  237 

every  single  part  to  have  been  spread  in  lesser  pro- 
portions over  the  whole  man.  Christ  suffered  only 
the  exquisiteness  and  heights  of  pain,  without 
any  of  the  mitigations  which  God  is  pleased  to 
temper  and  allay  it  with  as  it  befals  other  men ; 
like  a  man  who  drinks  only  the  spirits  of  a  liquor 
separated  and  extracted  from  the  dull,  unactive 
body  of  the  liquor  itself.  All  the  force  and  ac- 
tivity, the  stings  and  fierceness  of  that  trouble- 
some thing  were  (as  it  were)  drained  and  dis- 
tilled, and  abridged  into  that  cup  which  Christ 
drank  off.  There  was  something  sharper  than 
vinegar,  and  bitterer  than  gall,  which  that  draught 
was  prepared  and  made  up  with.  We  cannot  in- 
deed say,  that  the  sufferings  of  Christ  were  long  in 
duration,  for  to  be  violent  and  lasting  too,  is  above 
the  methods  or  measures  of  nature.  But  he  who 
lived  at  that  rate,  that  he  might  be  said  to  live  an 
age  every  hour,  was  able  to  suffer  so  too,  and  to 
comprise  the  greatest  torments  in  the  shortest 
space ;  which  yet  by  their  shortness  lost  nothing 
of  their  force  and  keenness ;  as  a  pen-knife  is  as 
sharp  as  a  spear,  though  not  so  long.  That  which 
promotes  and  adds  to  the  impressions  of  pain,  is 
the  delicate  and  exact  crasis  and  constitution  of 
the  part,  or  faculty  aggrieved.  And  there  is  no 
doubt  but  the  very  fabric  and  complexion  of  our 
Saviour's  body  was  a  master-piece  of  nature,  a 
thing  absolutely  and  exactly  framed,  and  of  that 
fineness  as  to  have  the  quickest  and  most  sensible 
touches  of  every  object ;  and  withal  to  have  these 
advanced  by  the  communion  of  his  admirably 
made  body  with  his  high,  and  vigorous  intellec- 
tuals. All  which  made  him  drink  in  pain  more 
deeply,  feel  every  lash,  every  wound  with  so  much  a 


238  ON   THE    CRUCIFIXION. 

closer,  and  a  more  affecting  sense.  For  it  is  not  to 
be  doubted  but  a  dull  fellow  can  endure  the  pa- 
roxysms of  a  fever,  or  the  torments  of  the  gout  or 
stone,  much  better  than  a  man  of  a  quick  mind  and 
exalted  fancy ;  because  in  one,  pain  beats  upon  a 
rock  or  an  anvil,  in  the  other  it  prints  itself  upon 
wax.  One  is  even  born  with  a  kind  of  lethargy 
and  stupefaction  into  the  world,  armed  with  an 
iron  body  and  a  leaden  soul  against  all  the  appre- 
hensions of  ordinary  sorrow  ;  so  that  there  is  need 
of  some  pain  to  awaken  such  an  one,  and  to  con- 
vince him  that  he  is  alive ;  but  our  Saviour,  who 
Jiad  an  understanding  too  quick  to  let  any  thing 
that  was  intelligible  escape  it,  took  in  the  dolorous 
afflicting  object  in  its  full  dimensions.  He  saw  the 
utmost  evil  of  every  one  of  those  strokes,  which 
the  guilt  of  our  sins  inflicted  on  him.  And  what 
his  eye  saw,  his  heart  proportion  ably  felt :  for 
surely  they  must  needs  have  been  inconceivably 
afflicting  in  the  actual  endurance,  which  were  so 
dreadful  in  their  very  approach,  that  the  horror  of 
them  put  *  the  man  of  God's  right  hand,  the  man 
made  strong'  for  that  very  purpose,  to  start  back, 
and  decline  the  blow,  could  the  avoidance  of  it 
have  stood  with  the  decrees  of  heaven — *  Father, 
if  it  be  possible,  let  this  cup  pass  from  me.'  Which 
yet  was  not  the  voice  of  cowardice,  but  of  human  . 
nature, — nature,  which  by  its  first  and  most  essen- 
tial principle  would  have  saved  itself,  might  it 
have  consisted  with  the  saving  of  the  world. 

3.  The  third  thing  setting  forth  the  greatness 
of  this  suffering,  is  the  cause  and  author  of  it, 
which  was  God  himself.  The  measure  of  every 
passion  is  the  operation  of  the  agent.  And  then, 
we  know  what  Omnipotence  can  do ;  Omnipotence 


BY    DR.    SOUTH.  239 

employed  or  rather  inflamed  by  justice,  in  whose 
quarrel  it  was  then  engaged.  We  must  not  mea- 
sure the  divine  strokes  by  the  proportion  of  those 
blows,  which  are  inflicted  by  the  greatest  and  most 
exasperated  mortal ;  the  condition  of  whose  nature 
sets  bounds  to  his  power,  when  it  cannot  to  his 
rage.  So  that,  in  the  utmost  executions  of  it,  he 
acts  but  like  a  wasp  ;  very  angrily  indeed,  but 
very  weakly.  Every  blow  inflicted  by  the  fiercest 
tyrant  can  reach  no  further  than  the  body ;  and 
the  body  is  but  the  dwelling-place,  not  any  part  of 
the  soul ;  and  consequently  can  no  more  commu- 
nicate its  ruins  to  that,  than  a  man  can  be  said  to  be 
wounded  in  his  person,  because  a  wall  of  his  house 
was  broken  down.  Upon  which  account  there 
have  been  some  whose  souls  have  been  so  fortified 
with  philosophy  and  great  principles,  as  to  enable 
them  to  laugh  in  Phalaris's  bull,  to  sing  upon  the 
rack,  and  to  despise  the  flames.  For  still,  when 
God  torments  us  by  the  instrumental  mediation 
of  the  creature,  his  anger  can  fall  upon  us  in  no 
greater  proportions  than  what  can  pass  through 
the  narrow  capacities  of  a  created  being.  -  For  be 
the  fountain  never  so  full,  yet  if  it  communicates 
itself  by  a  little  pipe,  the  stream  can  be  but  small 
and  inconsiderable,  and  equal  to  the  measures  of 
the  conveyance.  God  can  no  more  give  his  power, 
than  his  glory,  to  another ;  there  is  no  mortal  arm 
can  draw  his  bow.  God  cannot  thunder  or 
lighten  by  proxy.  He  alone  is  the  ?  Father  of 
spirits,'  and  none  can  reach  the  conscience  but  he 
who  made  it.  And  therefore,  being  to  discharge  the 
utmost  of  his  vindictive  justice  upon  the  sins  of 
mankind  then  charged  upon  our  Saviour,  he  took 
the  sword  into  his  own  hand,  entered  the  lists,  and 


240  ON    THE    CRUCIFIXION. 

dealt  with  him  immediately  by  himself.     And  then 
we  find  the  difference  of  our  Saviour's  suffering  by 
the   difference  of  his   behaviour.     While  he  was 
buffetted,  scourged,  and   nailed  to  the  cross,  we 
hear  nothing  from  him,  but  '  like  a  lamb  before 
the  shearers  he  was  dumb :'  not  because  he  could 
not,  but  because  he  scorned  to  roar  under  the  im- 
pressions of  a  finite  anger.    But  when  God  reached 
forth  his  hand,  and  darted  his  immediate  rebukes 
into  his  very  soul  and  spirit,   (as  he  did  while  he 
was  hanging  upon  the  cross,)  then  he  cries  out, 
'  My  God,  my  God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken  me  ?' 
Silence  upon  such  a  loss  would  have  been  but  stu- 
pidity,  and  patience  an  absurdity;  for  when  God 
withdrew  his  presence  from   him,   that   darkness 
which  then .  covered  the  face  of  the  whole  earth, 
was  but  a  faint  emblem  of  that  blacker  cloud  of 
despair  which  had  overcast  his  soul.     It  is  not  pos- 
sible for  us  to  conceive  the  utmost  weight  of  those 
heavy  strokes  inflicted  by  the  Almighty  himself 
upon  our  Saviour.     All  the  representations  and 
little  draughts  of  them  made  by  words  and  fancy 
are  vastly  short  of  the  keen  impressions  of  sense. 
But  yet  that  which  gives  us   the  nearest  resem- 
blance of  them,  surely,  is  the  torment  of  a  guilty 
mind  under  a  state  of  desertion ;  when  God  shall 
turn  the  '  worm  of  conscience'  into  a  scorpion,  and 
smite  it  with  the  secret  invisible  stings  of  his  wrath, 
such  as  shall  fester  and  rage  inwardly,  gnaw  and 
rake   the  very  entrails  of  the  soul.     The  burden 
and  anguish  of  this  has  been  sometimes  so  insup- 
portable, that  some  have  professed  themselves  to 
envy   the    condition   of  Judas   and   the   damned 
spirits,  as  thinking  the  endurance  of  those  flames 
more  tolerable  than  the  expectation,  and  accord- 


BY   DR.    SOUTH.  241 

ingly  have  done  violence  to  their  own  lives,  and  so 
fled  to  hell  as  to  a  sanctuary,  and  chose  damna- 
tion as  a  release.  Far  were  such  persons  (God 
knows)  from  bettering  their  condition  by  complet- 
ing that  which  they  could  not  bear  in  the  very  be- 
ginnings and  forestates  of  it :  yet  however  it  de- 
monstrates to  us  the  unspeakable  wretchedness  of 
a  guilty  soul,  labouring  under  the  hand  of  God. 
And  by  the  way,  let  the  boldest,  the  hardiest,  and 
the  securest  sinner  know  thafc  God  is  able,  without 
ever  touching  him  either  in  his  estate,  his  health, 
his  reputation,  or  any  other  outward  enjoyment 
dear  to  him,  but  merely  by  letting  a  few  drops  of 
his  wrath  fall  upon  his  guilty  conscience,  so  to  scald 
and  gall  him  with  the  lively  sense  of  sin,  that  he 
shall  live  a  continual  terror  to  himself,  carry  about 
him  a  hell  in  his  own  breast;  which  shall  echo 
to  him  such  peals  of  vengeance  every  hour,  that 
all  the  wine  and  music,  all  the  honours  and  great- 
ness of  the  world  shall  not  be  able  to  minister 
the  least  ease  to  his  heart-sick  and  desponding 
soul.  Now  in  these  torments  of  a  guilty  con- 
science we  have  some  little  image  of  the  pains  then 
suffered  by  our  Saviour,  the  greatness  of  both 
being  founded  upon  the  same  reason ;  namely,  that 
God  is  the  sole  and  immediate  inflicter  of  such 
strokes :  and  then  surely  the  suffering  must  needs 
be  grievous,  when  infinite  justice  passes  sentence 
and  infinite  power  does  execution. 

And  thus  I  have  finished  the  first  general  thing 
proposed  from  the  text,  which  was  the  suffering 
itself,  expressed  in  these  words,  '  He  was  stricken,' 
and  that,  by  considering  the  latitude,  the  in- 
tenseness,  and  also  the  cause  of  it.     All  of  them 

R 


242  ON   THE    CRUCIFIXION. 

so  many  arguments  to  demonstrate  to  us  its  un- 
paralleled greatness. 

IT.  The  second  general  thing  proposed  was  the 
nature  and  quality  of  this  suffering;  namely,  that 
it  was  penal  and  expiatory,  *  He  was  striken  for 
transgression.'  And  to  prove  that  it  was  penal, 
there  needs  no  other  argument  to  any  clear,  un- 
biassed understanding  than  the  natural,  genuine, 
and  unconstrained  use  of  the  word.  For  what 
other  sense  can  there  be  of  a  man's  being  stricken 
or  suffering  for  sin,  but  his  being  punished  for 
sin  ?  And  that  I  am  sure  is  spoke  so  plain  and 
loud  by  the  universal  voice  of  the  whole  book  of 
God,  that  Scripture  must  be  crucified  as  well  as 
Christ,  to  give  any  other  tolerable  sense  of  it. 
But  since  heresy  has  made  such  bold  invasions 
upon  those  sacred  writings,  we  will  consider  both 
those  senses  which  these  words  are  asserted  to  be 
capable  of. 

1.  First  of  all  then,  some  assert,  that  to  be 
stricken  for  transgression  imports  not  here  a  pu- 
nishment for  sins  past,  but  a  prevention  or  taking 
away  of  sin  for  the  future.  So  that  Christ  is  said 
to  be  stricken,  to  suffer,  and  to  die  for  sin,  because 
by  all  this  he  confirmed  to  us  an  excellent  and 
holy  doctrine,  the  belief  of  which  has  in  it  a  natu- 
ral aptness  to  draw  men  off  from  their  sins;  in  a 
word,  because  Christianity  tends  to  make  men 
holy,  and  cease  from  sin,  and  because  Christ 
by  his  blood  sealed  the  truth  of  Christianity, 
therefore  is  he  said  '  to  die  for  sin;'  a  strange  and 
remote  deduction,  and  such  an  one  as  the  common 
rules  and  use  of  speaking  would  never  have  sug- 
gested.    But  then  besides  because, — it  is  easy  to 


BY   DR.    SOUTH.  243 

come  upon  the  authors  of  this  perverse  interpre- 
tion,  by  demanding  of  them,  what  fitness  there 
could  be  in  Christ's  death  to  confirm  his  doctrine  ? 
and  what  reason  the  world  could  have  to  believe 
Christianity  true,  because  the  author  of  it,  a  pious, 
innocent,  excellent  person,  was  basely  and  cruelly 
put  to  death  ? — therefore  they  further  say,  tha* 
this  effect  of  its  confirmation  is  really  and  indeed 
to  be  ascribed  to  his  subsequent  resurrection 
though  only  his  death  be  still  mentioned ;  that  be* 
ing  the  most  difficult  and  heroic  passage  of  all, 
that  he  either  did  or  suffered  for  our  sakes,  and 
consequently  the  greatest  instance  of  his  patience, 
and  persuasion  of  the  truth  of  that  doctrine  for 
which  he  suffered.  But,  by  their  favour,  if  Christ 
is  said  no  otherwise  '  to  die  for  sin,'  than  because 
he  delivered  a  doctrine,  the  design  of  which  was  to 
draw  men  off  from  sin,  and  which  was  confirmed 
to  be  true  only  by  his  resurrection ;  how  comes  it 
to  pass  that  this  effect  is  still  joined  with  his 
death,  but  never  with  his  resurrection  ?  it  being 
said  over  and  over,  that  '  he  died  for  sin,  suffered 
and  bled  for  sin,'  but  never  that  J  he  rose  again  for 
sin.'  It  is,  indeed,  said  once,  that  he  rose  again 
'for  our  justification;'  but  in  the  very  foregoing 
words  it  is  said,  that  he  was  '  delivered  to  death 
for  our  offences.'  Which  shows  that  those  words 
1  for  our  offences,'  and  f.  for  our  justification,'  have 
there  a  very  different  sense,  and  bear  a  different 
relation  to  the  words  with  which  they  are  joined  in 
that,  as  well  as  in  the  other  Scriptures.  But  this 
whole  invention  is  so  forced  and  far  fetched,  and 
so  much  out  of  the  road  of  common  reason,  that 
it  is  impossible  it  should  gain,  but  by  the  strengths 
and  prepossessions  of  prejudice;  and  where  pre- 

R  2 


244  ON    THE    CRUCIFIXION. 

judice  stands  for  judgment,  for  aught  I  see,  it  is  as 
vain  to  urge  arguments  as  to  quote  Scriptures. 

2.  The  other  sense  of  these  words,  and  which 
alone  the  Catholic  church  receives  for  true,  is,  that 
'  Christ  being  stricken  for  sin,'  signifies  his  being 
punished  for  sin.  The  word  '  for'  in  this  case  de- 
noting the  antecedent  meritorious  cause  of  his 
suffering,  and  not  the  final,  as  the  school  of  So- 
cinus  does  assert;  and,  consequently,  must  di- 
rectly relate  to  the  removal  of  the  guilt  of  sin,  and 
not  the  power,  as  is  also  affirmed  by  the  same  per- 
sons. Now,  that  Christ's  suffering  and  'being 
stricken  for  transgression*  imports  that  suffering  to 
have  been  penal  and  expiatory,  as  it  might  with 
the  highest  evidence  be  demonstrated  from  several 
Scriptures,  so  at  this  time  I  shall  confine  my- 
self within  the  limits  of  the  chapter,  from  whence 
I  took  my  text :  and  here  I  shall  found  the  proof 
of  it  upon  these  two  expressions, — 

First,  that  Christ  is  said  '  to  have  borne  our  sins,' 
in  the  12th  verse.  Now,  '  to  bear  sin,'  is  an 
Hebrew  phrase  for  that  which  in  Latin  is  here 
peccatum,  and  in  English,  '  to  be  punished  for  sin/ 
And  if  to  bear  another  man's  sin  or  iniquity  by 
suffering,  does  not  imply  the  undergoing  of  the 
punishment  due  to  that  man's  sin,  we  must  in- 
vent a  new  way  of  expounding  profane  writers  as 
well  as  sacred,  and  of  interpreting  the  common 
speeches  of  men,  as  well  as  the  word  of  God. 

Secondly;  the  other  argument  shall  be  taken  from 
that  expression  which  declares  Christ  to  have  been 
made  a  'sacrifice,'  or  an  'offering  for  sin,'  in  the 
10th  verse:  'When  thou  shalt  make  his  soul  an 
offering  for  sin.'  The  procvf  of  what  I  here  affirm, 
is  grounded  upon  the  use  and  design  of  a  sacrifice, 


BY   DR.    SOUTH.  245 

as  it  has  been  used  by  all  nations  in  the  world  ; 
which  was  to  appease  the  Deity  by  paying-  down  a 
life  for  sin,  and  that  by  the  substitution  of  a  sacri- 
fice, whether  of  man  or  beast,  to  die  and  pay  down 
his  life  instead  of  the  sinner.  For  there  was  a  tacit 
acknowledgment  universally  fixed  in  the  hearts  of 
all  mankind,  *  that  the  wages  of  sin  was  death,'  and 
that, '  without  shedding  of  blood,  there  could  be 
no  remission  :'  upon  which  was  built  the  reason  of 
all  their  sacrifices  and  victims.  So  surely,  there- 
fore, as  Christ  was  a  sacrifice,  and  as  the  design  of 
a  sacrifice  is  to  pay  down  a  life  for  sin,  and  as  to 
pay  down  a  life  for  sin  is  to  be  punished  for  sin, 
so  sure  it  is,  that  Christ's  death  and  sufferings  were 
penal.  Now,  it  being  clear  that  the  foundation  of 
all  punishment  is  compensation  or  exchange  ;  that 
is  to  say,  something  paid  down  to  divine  justice  for 
something  done  against  it ;  and  since  all  compensa- 
tion implies  a  retribution  equivalent  to  the  injury 
done;  therefore,  that  Christ  might  be  qualified  to  be 
a  sacrifice  fit  tojundergo  the  full  punishment  due 
for  the  sins  of  mankind,  two  things  were  required. 

1.  An  infinite  dignity  in  his  person;  for  since 
the  evil  and  demerit  of  sin  was  infinite ;  and  since 
Christ  was  so  to  suffer  for  it,  as  not  to  remain  under 
those  sufferings  for  an  infinite  duration  ;  that  infi- 
nity, therefore,  was  to  be  made  up  some  other  way; 
which  could  not  be,  but  by  the  infinite  worth  and 
dignity  of  his  person,  grasping  in  all  the  perfections 
and  glories  of  the  Deity,  and  by  consequence  deriv- 
ing an  infinite  value  to  his  sufferings. 

2.  The  other  qualification  required  was  a  perfect 
innocence  in  the  person  to  suffer  ;  for  so  much  was 
specified  -by  the  Paschal  lamb,  of  which  we  still 
read  in  Scripture,  •  That  it  was  to  be  a  lamb  with- 
out blemish.'     And   there   is   no  doubt,  but  had 


246  ON   THE    CRUCIFIXION. 

Christ  had  any  sin  of  his  own  to  have  satisfied  for, 
he  had  been  very  unable  to  satisfy  for  other  men's. 
He  who  is  going  to  gaol  for  his  own  debts,  is  very 
unfit  to  be  a  security  of  another's. 

But  now  this  perfect  innocence,  which  I  affirm 
necessary  to  render  Christ  a  fit  and  proper  sacrifice, 
is  urged  by  our  adversaries  to  be  the  very  reason 
why  Christ's  sufferings  could  not  be  penal ;  since 
punishment,  in  the  very  nature  and  essence  of  it, 
imports  a  relation  to  sin.  To  this  I  answer,  that 
punishment  does  indeed  import  an  essential  rela- 
tion to  sin ;  but  not  of  necessity  to  the  sin  of  the 
person  upon  whom  it  is  inflicted :  as  might  be 
evinced  by  innumerable  instances,  as  well  as  undeni- 
able reasons. 

If  it  be  replied,  that  God  has  declared, '  that  the 
soul  that  sins  shall  die/  I  answer;  that  this  is 
only  a  positive  law,  according  to  which  God  de- 
clares he  will  proceed  in  the  ordinary  course  of 
his  providence  ;  but  it  is  not  of  natural  and  eternal 
obligation,  so  as  universally  to^bind  God  in  all 
cases;  but  that  he  may,  when  he  pleases,  deal 
otherwise  with  his  creature.  But  this  will  receive 
further  light  from  the  discussion  of  the  third  and 
last  general  head,  to  which  we  now  proceed. 
Namely, 

III.  The  ground  and  cause  of  this  suffering; 
which  was  God's  propriety  in,  and  relation  to  the 
persons  for  whom  Christ  suffered,  specified  in  these 
words, '  My  people :' — r  For  the  transgression  of  my 
people  was  he  stricken/ 

If  it  be  here  asked,  upon  what  account  the  per- 
sons here  spoken  of  were  denominated  and  made 
God's  people  ?  I  answer,  that  they  were  so  by  an 
eternal  covenant  and  transaction  between  the  Father 
and  the  Son ;  by  which  the  Father,  upon  certain 


BY   DR.    SOUTH.  247 

conditions  to  be  performed  by  the  Son,  consigned 
over  some  persons  to  him  to  be  his  people.  For 
our  better  understanding'  of  which  we  are  to  observe, 
that  the  business  of  man's  redemption  proceeds 
upon  a  two-fold  covenant. 

First,  an  eternal  covenant  made  between  the 
Father  and  the  Son,  by  which  the  Father  agreed  to 
give  both  grace  and  glory  to  a  certain  number  of 
sinners,  upon  condition  that  Christ  would  assume 
their  nature,  and  pay  down  such  a  ransom  to  his 
justice,  as  should  both  satisfy  for  their  sin,  and 
withal  merit  such  a  measure  of  grace  as  should 
effectually  work  in  them  all  things  necessary  to 
their  salvation.  And  this  covenant  may  be  pro- 
perly called  '  a  covenant  of  suretyship  or  redemption.' 
Upon  which  alone  and  not  upon  any  covenant 
made  between  God  and  men  in  their  own  persons, 
is  built  the  infallibility  of  the  future  believing,  re- 
penting, and  finally  persevering,  of  such  as  Christ 
from  all  eternity  undertook  to  make  his  people. 

Secondly ;  the  other  is  a  covenant  made  in  time, 
and  actually  entered  into  by  God  and  men ;  by 
which  God  on  his  part  promises  to  men  eternal 
salvation,  upon  condition  of  faith  and  repentance 
on  theirs.  And  this  is  called  in  Scripture  *  the  se- 
cond covenant,  or  'the  covenant  of  grace,'  and 
stands  opposed  to  that  which  is  there  called  '  the 
first  covenant,'  or  '  the  covenant  of  works.' 

Now,  by  that  eternal  compact  or  transaction  be- 
tween the  Father  and  the  Son  (of  which  alone  we 
now  speak)  was  this  donation  of  a  certain  determi- 
nate number  of  persons  made  to  Christ,  to  be  his 
people ;  by  virtue  of  which  agreement  or  transac- 
tion he  was  in  the  fulness  of  time  to  suffer  for 
them,  and  to  accomplish  the  whole  work  of  their 


248  ON   THE    CRUCIFIXION.       • 

redemption  from  first  to  last.  For  to  affirm  that 
Christ  died  only  to  verify  a  proposition,  (that  who- 
soever believed  should  be  saved,)  but  in  the  mean- 
time to  leave  the  whole  issue  of  things  in  reference 
to  persons  so  loose  and  undetermined,  that  it  was  a 
question,  whether  ever  any  one  should  actually  be- 
lieve, and  very  possible  that  none  ever  might;  and 
consequently,  that  after  Christ  had  suffered,  had 
been  stricken,  and  died  for  transgression,  yet,  for 
any  thing  that  he  had  done,  in  all  this,  he  might 
never  have  had  a  people  ;  this  certainly  is  a  strange 
and  new  gospel,  and  such  as  the  doctrine  of  our 
church  seems  utterly  unacquainted  with. 

Having  thus  shown  the  foundation  upon  which 
the  persons  here  spoken  of  are  called  by  the  pro- 
phet, '  God's  people ;'  namely,  an  eternal  covenant, 
in  which  God  the  Father  and  the  Son  mutually 
agreed  upon  the  terms  of  their  redemption;  we 
are  now  to  observe,  that  the  same  thing  that 
thus  denominates  and  makes  them  God's  people, 
makes  them  under  the  same  relation  to  belong 
also  to  Christ,  and  that  not  only  upon  the  ac- 
count of  his  nature,  that  he  was  God,  but  chiefly  of 
his  office,  that  he  was  their  Mediator;  which  capa- 
city made  him  equally  concerned  in  that  eternal 
covenant;  he  accepting  and  agreeing  to  those 
terms  that  were  proposed,  and  offered  him  by  the 
Father.  By  his  acceptance  of  which  he  became 
both  a  mystical  head,  and  a  surety  to  those  for 
whom  he  so  undertook.  And  this  relation  of  his 
to  them  was  the  cause,  why  he  both  might  be,  and 
actually  was  stricken  by  God  for  their  transgres- 
sion, without  any  violation  of  the  divine  justice, 
notwithstanding  the  perfect  innocence  of  his  per- 
son.    For  to  render  it  just  to  inflict  a  punishment 


BY  DR.    SOUTH.  249 

upon  an  innocent  person  instead  of  another,  either 
of  these  two  causes  are  sufficient :  First,  an  inti- 
mate conjunction  between  those  persons  ;  and  that 
either  natural  as  between  father  and  son,  or  politi- 
cal, as  between  king  and  people,  and  the  like :  Or, 
secondly,  the  voluntary  consent  and  will  of  an  in- 
nocent person  to  undergo  the  punishment  due  to 
the  nocent ;  as  it  is  between  a  man  and  his  surety. 
Accordingly,  from  that  covenant  by  which  the 
Father  made  over  a  certain  number  of  persons  to 
the  Son  to  be  his  people,  there  arose  this  twofold 
relation  of  Christ  to  them : — 

1.  Of  a  king  to  his  people,  or  of  a  mystical  head 
to  his  members ;  so  that  legally  and  politically 
they  suffered  as  really  in  Christ,  as  the  whole  body 
suffers  when  the  head  is  wounded,  or  struck  through 
with  a  dart. 

2.  The  other  relation  is  of  a  surety :  so  that  the 
satisfaction  paid  down  by  Christ  to  God's  justice 
for  sin,  is,  in  estimation  of  law,  as  really  accounted 
to  be  paid  down  by  the  saints,  as  if  they  had  paid 
it  in  their  own  persons. 

And  this  is  a  further,  and  withal  a  full  answer  to 
that  objection  formerly  hinted  from  the  innocence 
of  Christ's  person,  as  if  it  rendered  him  uncapable 
punishment.  For  his  own  free  voluntary  consent 
to  be  a  surety  for  sinners,  and  responsible  for  all 
that  divine  justice  could  charge  them  with,  trans- 
ferred the  guilt  and  obligation  from  their  persons 
to  his  own. 

In  a  word,  the  compact  between  Christ  and  his 
Father,  made  him  a  king,  a  mystical  head,  and  also 
a  surety  to  some  certain  persons  ;  and  his  being  so, 
made  them  his  people,  and  their  being  his  people 


250  ON    THE    CRUCIFIXION. 

did,  upon  that  account,  make  it  both  just  and 
equitable  for  him  to  suffer,  and  '  to  be  stricken  for 
their  transgression ;'  which  is  the  result  of  the  text, 
and  the  thing  undertook  by  us  to  be  proved. 

I  have  now  finished  the  several  things  proposed 
from  the  text :  in  which,  having  set  before  you 
how  much  Christ  has  suffered,  and  all  for  our 
sakes,  I  hope  it  will  kindle  the  workings  of  a 
pious  ingenuity  in  every  one  of  our  breasts.  For  I 
am  sure,  if  Christ's  suffering  for  us  were  the  doc- 
trine, gratitude  should  make  our  readiness  to  suffer 
for  him  the  application.  Christianity  I  have  shown 
was  a  suffering  religion ;  and  there  are  two  sorts  of 
suffering  to  which  it  will  certainly  expose  every 
genuine  professor  of  it. 

The  first  is  from  himself. 

The  second  from  the  world. 

1.  And,  first,  it  will  engage  him  in  a  suffering 
from  himself;  even  that  grand  suffering  of  self- 
denial  and  mortification,  the  sharpest  and  most 
indispensible  of  all  others,  in  which  every  Chris- 
tian is  not  only  to  be  the  sufferer,  but  himself  also 
the  executioner.  *  He  who  is  Christ's/  says  the 
apostle, '  has  crucified  the  flesh  with  the  affections 
and  lusts.'  A  severe  discipline  certainly,  in  which 
a  man  is  to  act  his  fiercest  anger  upon  his  dearest 
friends.  For  could  nature  ever  yet  suggest  to  any 
one  the  '  hatred  of  his  own  flesh  ? '  the  crucifixion 
of  his  desires,  and  the  stabbing  of  his  most  beloved 
affections  ?  Nature  indeed  cannot,  will  not  prompt 
it ;  but  Christianity,  which  rises  many  strains 
above  nature,  both  must  and  will.  The  best  sacri- 
fice to  a  crucified  Saviour  is  a  crucified  lust,  a 
bleeding  heart,  and  a  dying  corruption.     We  can- 


BY    DR.    SOUTH.  2#l 

not  bring,  nor  indeed  does  Christ  expect,  a  recom- 
pense for  what  he  has  suffered  for  us ;  yet  that, 
which  he  will  accept,  as  if  it  were  a  recompense,  is 
for  us  to  deal  cruelly  with  that  body  of  sin,  which 
has  caused  the  acting  of  all  those  cruelties  upon 
him.  Let  the  ambitious  man  lay  his  pride  in  the 
dust,  the  covetous  man  deposit  his  treasures  in  the 
banks  of  charity  and  liberality,  and  let  the  volup- 
tuous epicure  renounce  his  cups  and  his  whores ; 
and  this  will  be  a  present  to  heaven  better  than  a 
whole  hecatomb  ;  nor  could  '  the  fruit  of  his  body' 
fall  so  grateful  'a  sacrifice  upon  God's  altars,'  as 
■  the  sin  of  his  soul.'  But  it  is  like,  the  jolly  world 
about  us  will  but  scoff  at  the  paradox  of  such  prac- 
tices, and  explode  them  as  madness  and  melan- 
choly: yet  let  those  sons  of  pleasure  know,  that 
such  as  scorn  to  be  thus  melancholy  in  this  world, 
will  have  but  little  cause  to  be  merry  in  the  next. 

2.  The  other  kind  of  suffering  in  which  Chris- 
tianity will  engage  a  man  is  from  the  world.  Such 
is  the  genius  and  nature  of  the  Christian  religion, 
that  it  must  unavoidably  bring  him,  who  owns  it, 
in  the  power  of  it,  under  temporary  troubles  and 
afflictions.  'In  the  world,'  says  Christ,  '  ye  shall 
have  tribulation.'  And  he  spoke  it  not  so  much 
by  a  spirit  of  prophecy,  as  philosophy  :  and  by  an 
actual  sight  of  it  in  its  pregnant  causes.  For  the 
contrariety  of  the  principles  and  maxims  of  Chris- 
tianity to  those  of  the  world,  cannot  but  engage 
men  in  such  practices  as  shall  also  thwart  the  cus- 
toms and  modes  which  govern  the  actions  of  the 
world.  But  where  there  is  contrariety  there  will 
be  fighting;  and  where  there  is  fighting,  the 
weaker  I  am  sure,  must  suffer ;  and  generally  the 
Christian  is  so  in  all  worldly  encounters,  whose  chief 


252  ON  THE   CRUCIFIXION. 

defensatives  lie  not  in  that  armour  that  is  sword-proof, 
or  bullet-proof;  and  who  wears  no  breast-plate  upon 
but  within  his  breast ;  that  is,  his  innocence,  his 
conscience,  and  his  confidence  in  a  reconciled  God. 
Suffering  is  a  thing  which  all  men  abhor,  and  that 
because  they  are  ashamed  of  it;  and  their  being  so 
is  grounded  upon  this  opinion,  that  '  to  suffer,'  in 
the  very  nature  of  it,  seems  to  impeach  the  suf- 
fering person,  either  in  the  reputation  of  his  power, 
or  of  his  innocence ;  that  is,  he  suffers,  either  be- 
cause he  is  weak  and  cannot  hinder  it,  or  because 
he  is  faulty  and  so  deserves  it.  But  with  every 
Christian  Christ  is  an  abundant  answer  to  both 
these  objections.  For  when  we  see  Omnipotence 
hanging  upon  the  cross,  and  God  himself  scourged 
and  spit  upon ;  and  when  we  see  him  who  could 
have  commanded  fire  from  heaven,  and  legions  of 
angels  to  his  rescue,  yet  surrendering  himself 
quietly  to  the  will  of  his  murderers,  surely  no 
mortal  man,  who  is  but  dirt,  and  worms-meat  at 
the  best,  can  pretend  himself  too  great,  and  too 
high  to  suffer.  And  again,  when  we  behold  virtue, 
innocence,  and  purity,  more  than  angelical,  cruci- 
fied between  thieves  and  malefactors,  shall  any 
man  whose  birth  and  actions  revile  and  speak  him 
a  sinner  to  his  face,  think  himself  too  good  to  come 
under  the  cross,  and  to  take  his  share  in  the  com- 
mon lot  of  Christianity  ?  It  is  not  the  suffering 
itself,  but  the  cause  of  it  that  is  dishonourable. 
And  even  in  the  worst  and  most  shameful  of  suf- 
ferings, though  the  hangman  does  the  execution, 
yet  it  is  the  crime  alone  which  does  the  disgrace. 

Christ  commands  us  nothing,  but  he  enforces  it 
with  arguments  from  his  person  as  well  as  from  his 
word;  and  it  is  well  if  we  can  make  a  due  use  of 


BY   DR.    SOUTH.  253 

them.  For  God  knows  how  soon  he  may  call  us  from 
our  easy^peculations,  and  theories  of  suffering,  to  the 
practical  experience  of  it, — how  soon  he  may  draw 
us  forth  for  persecution  and  the  fiery  trial.  Only  this 
we  may  be  sure  of,  that  if  these  things  be  brought 
upon  us  for  his  honour,  it  will  be  for  ours  too  to 
endure  them.  And  be  our  distresses  never  so  great, 
our  calamities  never  so  strange,  and  unusual,  yet 
we  have  both  our  Saviour's  example  to  direct,  and 
his  promise  to  support  us,  who  has  left  it  upon 
record  in  his  everlasting  gospel,  *  That  if  we  suffer 
with  him,  we  shall  also  reign  with  him/ 

To  whom,  therefore,  be  rendered  and  ascribed,  as 
is  most  due,  all  praise,  might,  majesty,  and  domi- 
nion, both  now  and  for  evermore.     Amen. 


SERMON   XII. 

OUR  LORD'S  OBEDIENCE  UNTO  DEATH. 
BY  BISHOP  BEVERIDGE., 


i  William  Bsvbridok  was  born  in  1637:  in  1704  he  was  consecrated  Bishop  of 
St.  Asaph,  and  died  in  1708.] 


SERMON    XII 


Philippians,  ii.  8. 

And  being  found  in  fashion  as  a  man,  he  hum- 
bled himself,  and  became  obedient  unto  death, 
even  the  death  of  the  cross. 

He  that  reads  and  firmly  believes  what  is  here 
written,  cannot  but  fall  down  and  worship  God, 
adoring  that  infinite  wisdom,  justice,  and  mercy 
that  he  manifested  in  the  redemption  of  fallen 
man ;  for  here  we  read,  that  our  Redeemer  Jesus 
Christ,  being  in  the  form,  subsisting  in  the  nature 
or  essence,  of  God,  '  thought  it  not  robbery  to  be 
equal  with  God.'  He  did  not  think  that  he  robbed 
God  of  any  glory,  or  offered  him  any  injury  or 
affront,  by  asserting  himself  to  be  equal  to  him,  of 
the  same  substance,  wisdom,  power,  and  all  other 
perfections  with  him.  Yet  nevertheless,  this  glori- 
ous, eternal,  infinite,  almighty  Person,  subsisting 
thus  in  the  form  of  God,  made  himself  of  no  repu- 
tation. He  emptied,  debased,  humbled  himself, 
by  taking  upon  him  the  form  of  a  servant;  being 
made  in  the  likeness  of  men,  a  real  and  perfect 
man,  like  to  the  rest  of  mankind  in  all  the  integral 
or  essential  parts  of  a  man.    And  being  thus  found 


258     our  lord's  obedience  unto  death. 

in  fashion  or  habit  as  a  man,  in  such  a  soul  and 
body  as  other  men  have,  he  humbled  himself  lower 
yet,  becoming  obedient,  or  subject  to  those  laws, 
which  he,  as  Lord  of  all,  had  made  for  others,  not 
only  all  his  life,  but  even  to  death  itself;  and  that 
too,  not  any  ordinary  or  common  death,  but  the 
most  painful,  the  most  shameful,  the  most  accursed 
death  that  any  mortal  could  undergo,  even  '  the 
death  of  the  cross.' 

Oh  mystery  of  mysteries!  that  God  himself 
should  become  man,  and  die,  and  die  upon  the 
cross  too  !  Who  can  think  of  it  without  astonish- 
ment and  admiration  ?  Especially  if  we  consider 
withal  the  ends  and  reasons  of  it,  which  are  alto- 
gether as  great  and  mysterious  as  the  thing  itself. 
Certainly,  if  we  do  that,  we  shall  need  no  other 
arguments  to  persuade  us  to  join  with  the  Catho- 
lic church  in  the  celebration  of  it,  as  we  do  this 
day. 

This  therefore  is  that  which  I  shall  now  offer  at ; 
even  to  consider  the  great  ends  and  reasons,  why 
this  divine  person,  subsisting  in  the  form  or  na- 
ture of  God,  took  upon  him  the  form  or  nature 
of  man,  and  so  died.  Not  that  I  think  it  possible 
for  me  fully  to  comprehend,  much  less  to  ex- 
plain, so  great  a  mystery ;  which  I  can  no  sooner 
cast  my  eye  upon,  but  it  is  immediately  dazzled 
with  the  glory  and  splendour  of  it.  Howsoever, 
it  being  a  matter  wherein  we  are  all  so  highly 
concerned,  and  having  it  delivered  to  us  in  the 
Holy  Scriptures,  in  as  plain  and  perspicuous 
terms  as  the  nature  of  the  thing  would  bear,  I  shall 
from  thence  endeavour  to  express  my  thoughts  of 
it,  as  clearly  as  I  can  ;  humbly  beseeching  him  of 
whom  I  speak,  so  to  assist  and  direct  me  in  speak- 


BY   BISHOP   BEVERIDGE  259 

ing  of  him,  that  I  may  utter  nothing  but  what  is 
agreeable  to  his  word,  and  becoming  his  honour 
and  majesty. 

"First,  therefore,  we  may  consider,  that  although 
the  most  high  God  be  infinitely  happy  in  him- 
self, yet  he  made  all  things  for  himself,  even 
for  his  own  glory,  which  is  the  ultimate  end 
of  this,  and  of  all  his  other  actions.  Wherefore, 
when  he  made  the  world,  he  made  two  sorts  of 
creatures  in  it,  capable  of  reflecting  upon,  and  ac- 
knowledging those  glorious  perfections  which  he 
displayed  in  the  creation  of  it;  and  they  were 
angels  and  men ;  all  which  he  made  not  only 
rational  and  free  agents,  and  so  able  to  do  the 
work  they  were  made  for ;  but  likewise  of  such  a 
temper  and  constitution,  that  their  only  ease  and 
happiness  consisted  in  the  doing  of  it. 

The  first  of  these,  viz.  the  angels,  being  all  made, 
and  actually  existing,  together,  although  most  of 
them  continued  in  the  same  state  in  which  they 
were  created,  yet  others  fell  from  it,  degenerating 
into  wicked  and  impure  spirits ;  which  not  answer- 
ing the  end  of  their  creation,  are  always  uneasy 
and  restless  in  their  minds,  and  tormented  with 
the  sense  of  their  sin,  and  of  the  wrath  of  their 
almighty  Creator  against  them  for  it. 

But  as  for  men,  it  was  not  so  with  them;  for 
they  never  did,  nor  ever  will,  till  the  end  of  the 
world,  all  actually  exist  together.  But  at  first, 
only  one  man  was  made,  and  endued  with  power 
to  propagate  his  kind  to  others,  and  so  successively, 
till  the  whole  number  of  individuals,  or  persons  that 
God  designed  of  that  nature,  should  be  made  up. 

But  howsoever,  seeing  all  mankind  were  to  pro- 

s  2 


260   OUR  LORDS  OBEDIENCE  ONTO  DEATH. 

ceed  from,  and  so  were  virtually  contained  in  the 
first  man,  who  was  therefore  called  Adam,  that  is, 
man  in  general ;  hence  if  he  had  stood,  all  man 
kind  must  needs  have  stood  with  him ;  but  he 
falling,  all  fell  with  him  into  the  same  wretched 
and  miserable  estate  with  the  devils  01  apostate 
angels  before  spoken  of. 

So  that  now  of  the  two  sorts  of  creatures  which 
God  made  on  purpose  to  know,  worship,  and  enjoy 
him  that  made  them,  a  great  part  of  the  one  and  all 
the  other  were  lost  and  undone,  as  to  all  the  intents 
and  purposes  of  their  creation,  and  are  become  of 
themselves  as  sinful  and  miserable,  as  they  were 
designed  by  God  to  be  holy  and  happy  for  ever. 

And  now  there  is  occasion  given  for  the  mani- 
festing two  divine  perfections,  which  otherwise 
could  not  have  been  exerted,  even  vindictive  justice 
and  mercy;  both  which  suppose  sin  and  guilt;  for 
if  none  had  ever  sinned,  none  could  ever  have 
been  justly  punished,  nor  would  any  have  stood 
in  need  of  mercy.  For  though  God  is  good,  and 
kind,  and  gracious,  and  bountiful  to  all  his  crea- 
tures, he  could  not  properly  be  said  to  be  merci- 
ful to  any,  but  to  such  as  have  contracted  guilt, 
and  so  deserved  punishment  at  his  hands ;  as  many 
of  the  angels,  and  all  mankind  had  now  done,  and 
so  were  become  proper  objects  either  of  his  justice 
or  mercy,  or  both,  as  he  should  see  good  to  exer- 
cise them. 

Wherefore  the  apostate  angels  having  all  sinned, 
every  one  in  his  own  person,  God  was  pleased  to 
execute  his  justice  and  vengeance  upon  them  to 
the  utmost  extremity,  having  condemned  them  all 
to   everlasting    fire,   which,   as   our    Saviour  tells 


BY    BISHOP    BEVJiRIDGE.  261 

us,  'is  prepared  for  the  devil  and  his  angels.' * 
And  therefore  St.  Peter  saith,  that  '  God  spared 
not  the  angels  that  sinned,  but  cast  them  down  to 
hell,  and  delivered  them  into  chains  of  darkness, 
to  be  reserved  unto  judgment.'2  And  St.  Jude, 
that '  the  angels  which  kept  not  their  first  estate, 
but  left  their  own  habitation,  he  hath  reserved  in 
everlasting  chains,  under  darkness,  unto  the  judg- 
ment of  the  great  day.'3  So  that  Hot  one  of  them 
can  ever  escape,  but  they  are  all  made  standing, 
everlasting  monuments  of  the  divine  vengeance, 
and  just  indignation  against  sin,  never  to  be  ap- 
peased. 

And  the  same  might  justly  have  been  the  con- 
dition of  all  mankind  too;  for  they  all  sinned  in 
their  common  head,  and  so  fell  from  their  first 
estate,  as  well  as  the  apostate  angels,  and  there- 
fore have  deserved  the  same  punishment  which 
was  inflicted  upon  them.  But  howsoever,  seeing 
they  did  not  all  actually  consent  in  their  own  per- 
sons to  the  sin  of  their  first  parents,  but  only  in 
their  general  nature,  which  was  then  contained 
wholly  in  them ;  hence  their  great  and  most  gra- 
cious Creator  was  pleased  to  show  mercy  towards 
them,  but  so  as  to  manifest  his  justice  also,  both 
against  that  original,  and  all  the  actual  sins  they 
should  ever  be  guilty  of,  so  as  to  make  them  the 
objects  both  of  his  justice  and  of  his  mercy  too : 
of  his  justice,  by  punishing  the  sins  they  had 
committed  ;  and  of  his  mercy,  by  pardoning  those 
who  had  committed  them,  upon  such  easy  terms, 
that  if  it  be  not  their  own  personal  faults,  they 

s  Matt.  xxv.  41.  *  2  Pet.  ii.  4.  '  Jude,  6. 


262  OUR  lord's  obedience  unto  death. 

may  be  all  restored  to  the  same  estate  of  bliss  and 
happiness  from  which  they  fell. 

For  this  therefore  it  was  that  Christ  came  into 
the  world,  for  this  it  was  that  he  did  and  suffered 
so  much  when  here,  and  for  this  it  was  that  he  died 
upon  the  cross;  even  for  the  exaltation  of  God's 
justice  and  mercy,  and  so  for  the  advancing  of  his 
glory  in  the  redemption  of  mankind  from  the  state 
of  sin  and  misery,  into  which  they  were  fallen,  to  a 
state  of  grace  and  salvation. 

Now  we  being  all  in  the  number  of  those  to 
whom  the  great  Creator  of  the  world  hath  been 
thus  infinitely  merciful  as  well  as  just,  it  must 
needs  behove  us  very  much  to  understand  and  ap- 
prehend this  great  mystery  aright,  that  so  we  may 
be  duly  affected  with  it,  and  thankful  for  it,  and 
know  what  to  do,  that  we  may  be  really  and  eter- 
nally the  better  for  it. 

For  which  purpose,  therefore,  we  may  consider, 
first,  that  the  person  who  undertook  our  redemp- 
tion, was  none  of  the  creatures  that  God  had  made, 
but  his  only  Son,  whom  he  had  begotten  from  eter- 
nity, by  communicating  his  own  essence  to  him ; 
who  is  therefore  here  said  to  subsist  in  the  form  or 
essence  of  God.  He  subsists  in  it,  and  so  is  a  dis- 
tinct person  or  subsistence  in  it;  but  in  that  he 
subsists  in  it,  he  must  needs  be  of  it;  it  being  im- 
possible that  any  thing  should  subsist  in  the  es- 
sence of  God,  but  what  is  of  that  essence.  Hence 
he  is  truly  and  properly  '  God  of  God,  light  of 
light,  very  God  of  very  God,  begotten,  not  made, 
of  one  substance  or  essence  with  the  Father,'  as 
the  first  general  council  determined  out  of  the  holy 
Scriptures,  and  the  catholic  church   hath  always 


BY  BISHOP  BEVERIDGE.  263 

held,  both  before  and  since.  Indeed  there  is  no 
one  truth  more  clearly  revealed  in  the  gospel  than 
this  is.  And  it  is  but  necessary  it  should  be  so ; 
this  being  the  very  foundation  of  our  religion,  and 
of  all  our  hopes  of  being  saved  in  it :  take  away  this, 
and  our  redemption  falls  to  the  ground,  as  being 
built  wholly  upon  the  divine  power  and  nature  of 
our  Redeemer.  And  therefore,  Turks  and  Soci- 
nians,  and  all  such  as  deny  the  divinity  of  our  Sa- 
viour, do  thereby  deny  him  to  be  our  Saviour  too, 
and  so  make  themselves  incapable  of  being  ever 
saved  by  him.  But  blessed  be  God,  we  have  better 
learnt  Christ ;  being  fully  assured,  out  of  his  holy 
word,  that  though  he  be  a  distinct  person  from  th$ 
Father,  he  is  the  same  God,  of  the  same  divine 
power  and  nature  with  him. 

This  divine  person,  therefore,  subsisting  l  in  the 
form  of  God/  having  undertaken  our  redemption, 
for  the  effecting  of  it,  took  upon  him  '  the  form  of 
a  servant,'  the  nature  of  man  ;  not  of  this  or  that 
particular  man,  but  of  man  in  general.  So  that 
the  whole  human  nature  which  was  contained  in 
Adam,  was  now  assumed  by  Christ,  who  is  there- 
fore called  Adam  too ;  that  is,  as  I  observed  before, 
man  in  general.  '  The  first  man  Adam  was  made  a 
living  soul,  the  last  Adam  was  made  a  quickening 
spirit.'1  Hence  he  is  called  also  the  ■  second  man' 
by  the  same  apostle,  saying, '  The  first  man  was  of 
the  earth,  earthly;  the  second  man  is  the  Lord 
from  heaven.' 2  Why  the  second  man  ?  but  because 
he  was  looked  upon  as  become  man  from  the  time 
that  he  was  first  promised,  when  there  was  not 
another  man   besides  in  the  world,  but  only  the 

1  1  Cor.  xv.  45.  2  Ibid,  v.  47 


264     our  lord's  obedience  unto  death. 

first  man  Adam ;  and  especially,  because  he  was 
the  next  man  in  general  after  Adam.  All  other 
men  betwixt  them  being  only  particular  human 
persons,  but  Adam  and  Christ,  sustained  the  whole 
human  nature.  In  which  sense,  as  Adam  was  the 
first,  Christ  was  properly  the  second  man.  Nei- 
ther is  this  a  mere  airy  speculation,  but  so  great, 
so  necessary  a  truth,  that  our  salvation  depends 
very  much  upon  it ;  for  all  mankind  being  con- 
tained; and  therefore  sinning  in  the  first  man 
Adam,  unless  there  be  another  Adam  or  man  in 
general  found  out,  who  hath  bome  the  punishment 
of  that  sin,  all  mankind  must  still  be  subject  to  it : 
whereas  there  being  now  another  Adam  set  up,  in 
whom  the  whole  nature  of  man,  and  so  all  man- 
kind, is  contained,  as  well  as  in  the  first,  by  him 
we  may  be  all  freed  from  the  sin  we  contracted, 
and  so  repair  all  the  losses  we  sustained  in  the  first 
Adam,  and  be  made  as  righteous  by  the  one,  as  we 
were  made  sinners  by  the  other;  as  the  apostle 
proves  at  large. ' 

But  here  we  must  further  observe,  that  the  hu- 
man nature  which  the  Son  of  God  assumed,  having 
no  subsistence  out  of  the  divine  person  who  as- 
sumed it,  it  could  not  make  a  person  of  itself  dis- 
tinct from  the  divine,  but  was  so  united  to  it,  that 
although  he  had  two  distinct  natures,  the  one  di- 
vine, communicated  to  him  by  the  Father  from 
eternity,  the  other  human,  assumed  by  himself  in 
time,  and  so  was  really  both  God  and  man ;  yet  he 
was  not  one  person  as  God,  and  another  as  man, 
but  he  was  only  one  person  both  as  God  and  man ; 
as  the  third  general  council  determined  against 

1  Rom.  v. 


BY    BISHOP   BETBRIDGE.  265 

Nestorius.  And  the  same  may  be  fully  demon- 
strated, not  only  from  many  particular  places  in 
the  holy  gospel,  but  likewise  from  the  whole  scope 
and  design  of  ]t ;  for  if  he  had  been  one  person  as 
God,  and  another  person  as  man,  then  all  his  suf- 
ferings as  man,  being  the  sufferings  only  of  a  finite 
person,  would  have  terminated  in  himself,  and 
could  never  have  reached  the  rest  of  mankind. 
Whatsoever  he  might  have  merited  for  himself,  he 
could  not  have  merited  any  thing  for  us,  by  them  ; 
in  that  he  underwent  them  only  as  a  mere  human 
person,  such  as  every  one  of  us  is.  So  that  by 
this  means  we  should  still  be  where  we  were,  lost 
and  undone  for  ever.  Whereas  on  the  contrary, 
Christ,  both  as  God  and  man,  being  only  one,  and 
that  a  divine  and  infinite  person,  whatsoever  he 
did  or  suffered  in  Iris  human  nature,  being  done 
and  suffered  by  an  infinite  person,  it  could  not  but 
be  of  infinite  worth  and  value,  and  so  be  able  to 
reach  and  profit  all  that  should  or  could  ever  par- 
take of  that  nature  wherein  it  was  done  or  suffered ; 
for  be  they  never  so  many,  both  they  and  their 
number  is  still  but  finite ;  whereas  his  merits 
could  not  but  be,  like  himself,  infinite. 

But  this  being  the  great  article  upon  which  the 
main  stress  of  our  salvation  depends,  it  may  not  be 
amiss  to  confirm  and  explain  it  a  little  further  to 
you  :  for  which  purpose  I  might  produce  many  of 
Christ's  own  sayings,  and  as  many  passages  out  of 
the  writings  of  his  holy  apostles,  which  make  it 
both  certain  and  clear.  But  I  shall  instance  only 
in  those  words  of  St.  Paul  to  the  Asian  bishops, 
•  Take  heed  therefore  to  yourselves,  and  to  all  the 
flock  over  which  the  Holy  Ghost  hath  made  you 
overseers,  to  feed  the  church  of  God  which  he  hath 


266  our  lord's  obedience  unto  death. 

purchased  with  his  own  blood."  Where  we  find 
it  expressly  said,  that  God  hath  purchased  the 
church  with  his  own  blood ;  which  could  not  pos- 
sibly be,  unless  the  same  person  who  was  God,  hafd 
blood  wherewith  to  purchase  it.  feut  this  blood 
could  be  no  other  but  the  blood  of  the  human  na- 
ture ;  which  if  it  had  been  an  human  person,  it 
could  not  have  been  truly  called,  as  it  is  here,  the 
blood  of  God.  But  seeing  the  blood  which  Christ 
shed  as  man  was  most  certainly  what  it  was  here 
called,  even  the  blood  of  God,  an  infinite  person, 
it  could  not  but  be  of  sufficient  value  to  purchase 
the  whole  church,  as  it  is  here  said  to  have  done. 

From  hence,  therefore,  we  may  infallibly  con- 
clude, that,  although  the  two  natures  in  Christ 
were  preserved  entire  and  distinct  from  one  another, 
after  as  well  as  before  their  union  to  one  person,  as 
the  fourth  general  council  declared  against  Euty- 
ches  and  his  followers ;  yet  they  were  so  united  to 
one  person,  that  whatsoever  was  done  in  either 
nature,  was  still  done  by  one  and  the  same  person. 
And  by  consequence,  that  whatsoever  Christ  either 
did  or  suffered  as  man,  was  done  and  suffered  by 
one  who  was  really  and  truly  God  :  when  Christ, 
as  man,  was  derided,  God  was  derided  ;  when  he 
was  sorrowful,  God  was  sorrowful ;  when  he  was 
crucified,  it  might  be  truly  said  that  God  was  cru- 
cified ;  for  so  the  apostle  himself  speaks,  saying, 
that  *  they  crucified  the  Lord  of  glory,'9  which  is 
the  same  in  effect,  as  if  he  had  said,  they  crucified 
God. 

If  we  carry  these  truths  along  with  us,  they  will 
give  us  great  light  into  the  mystery  of  our  salvation 

•  Acts,  xx.  28.  2  1  Cor.  ii.  8. 


m     BISHOP   BEVERIDGE.  267 

by  Christ :  for,  seeing  he  was  really  and  truly  God, 
of  the  same  nature  with  the  Father,  and  became 
really  and  truly  man,  of  the  same  nature  with  us, 
so  as  to  be  still  but  one  person,  both  as  God  and 
man ;  hence,  it  necessarily  follows,  that  when  he 
'  humbled  himself,  and  became  obedient,'  as  it  is 
here  said,  the  obedience  which  he  performed  in- 
finitely exceeded  the  most  perfect  obedience  that 
all  mankind  could  ever  have  performed,  if  they 
had  continued  in  their  first  and  best  estate.  For  their 
obedience  could  have  been  no  more  than  what  was 
due  to  God,  and  at  the  highest  it  would  have  been 
the  obedience  only  of  finite  creatures ;  whereas,  his 
was  the  obedience  of  God  himself,  which  could  not 
be  properly  said  to  be  due  to  himself.  And  there- 
fore it  is  here  said,  '  that  he  humbled  himself,  by 
becoming  obedient,'  as  the  Greek  words  import; 
for,  he  having  no  previous  obligations  upon  him  to 
observe  those  laws  which  he  himself  had  prescribed 
to  mankind,  it  was  great  humility  and  condescen- 
sion in  him  to  obey  them.  It  is  true,  as  man,  he 
was  bound  to  obey  God,  as  other  men  are.  But  no 
man  ever  was,  or  could  be  bound  to  perform  divine 
obedience,  such  as  Christ  performed  in  his  man- 
hood united  to  a  divine  person,  which  was  so  ex- 
ceeding great,  such  infinite  obedience,  that  it  could 
not  but  be  of  as  great,  as  infinite  value  and  merit 
for  mankind,  in  whose  nature  he  performed  it. 

Especially,  considering  that  he  was  obedient,  not 
only  through  the  whole  course  of  his  life,  but  as 
the  apostle  here  saith,  *  unto  death  ;'  unto  death, 
not  as  the  object,  but  the  great  and  last  subject  of 
his  obedience.  God  had  said  to  the  first  Adam, 
1  In  the  day  thou  eatest  thereof,  thou  shalt  die  the 
death.'    And  the  second  Adam  accordingly  died 


268     OUR  lord's  obedience  unto  death. 

the  death,  even  the  death  of  the  cross,  in  which 
were  contained  all  the  shame,  the  pain,  and  curses 
that  were  due  to  the  sins  of  mankind  ;  which  death 
being  undergone  by  the  whole  nature  of  man,  in 
the  person  of  God,  and  so  by  God  himself,  it  was 
more  in  itself,  and  more  satisfactory  to  the  divine 
justice,  than  if  all  human  persons  in  the  world 
should  have  suffered  eternal  death ;  for  theirs  could 
have  been  no  more  than  the  death  of  finite  persons ; 
which,  if  it  could  ever  satisfy  divine  justice,  would 
not  be  eternal.  But  his  being  the  death  of  an  in- 
finite person,  it  could  not  be  but  of  infinite  value, 
and  therefore  as  much  as  justice  itself  could  re- 
quire for  sins  committed  against  a  person  that  is 
infinite.  And  it  being  undergone  in  the  nature  of 
man,  all  the  infinite  value,  merit,  and  satisfaction 
that  is  in  it,  must  needs  have  respect  or  relation  to 
those  only,  and  to  all  those  who  partake  of  that  na- 
ture. And  therefore  it  is  said,  that 'Christ  tasted 
death  for  every  man  ;' l  that  he  gave  himself  a 
ransom  for  all;'2  that  •  he  was  a  propitiation  for 
the  sins  of  the  whole  world  :'3  that  is,  as  our  church 
expresseth  it,  "He  by  his  one  oblation  of  himself 
once  offered,  made  a  full,  perfect,  and  sufficient 
sacrifice,  oblation,  and  satisfaction,  for  the  sins  of 
the  whole  world,  or  of  all  mankind,  in  whose  na- 
ture he  did  it." 

Now,  these  things  being  considered,  it  is  easy  to 
•  see  what  grounds  we  have  to  hope  for  pardon  and 
salvation  by  Christ;  for,  in  order  to  the  pardon  of 
our  sins,  it  was  first  necessary  that  God's  law  and 
justice  should  be  satisfied  for  the  injury  and  dis- 
honour he  hath  received  by  them.     But  this  Christ 

1  Heb.  ii.  9.  •  1  Tim.  ii.  6.  »  1  John,  ii.  2. 


BY    BISHOP    BEVERIDGE.  269 

hath  now  done  more  effectually  by  dying  in  the 
human  nature,  than  all  human  persons  could  have 
done  by  dying  eternally  So  that  it  will  be  no 
violation  of  his  justice  to  pardon  our  sins,  seeing 
his  own  Son  hath  undergone  the  punishment  which 
was  clue  unto  him  for  them.  Upon  whose  account, 
therefore,  he  is  now  ready  to  show  us  so  much 
mercy,  as  to  discharge  and  acquit  us  of  all  our  sins, 
and  to  receive  us  again  into  his  grace  and  favour 
upon  our  repentance  and  submission. 

And  seeing  both  reason  and  justice  require  that 
we  should  repent  of  onr  sins,  and  turn  to  God,  be- 
fore we  be  pardoned  by  him;  Christ  hath  merited 
this  also  for  us;  and  therefore  is  now  exalted  by 
the  right  hand  of  God,  'to  be  a  Prince  and  a  Savi- 
our, for  to  give  repentance  to  Israel,  and  remission 
of  sins:'1  first  repentance,  and  then  remission.  So 
that  now,  by  reason  of  his  infinite  merits,  he  hath 
power,  not  only  to  pardon  our  sins  if  we  do  repent, 
but  to  give  us  repentance  also,  that  so  they  may  be 
pardoned.  Where,  by  repentance,  we  are  to  under- 
stand all  manner  of  grace  and  power  to  do  whatso- 
ever is  required  of  us  in  order  to  our  pardon  and 
salvation  :  it  is  now  all  at  Christ's  disposal.  Inso- 
much, that  as  he  himself  tells  us,  '  without  him  we 
can  do  nothing.'2  But,  as  his  apostle  saith,  '  I  can 
do  all  things  through  Christ  that  strengthened 
me/3 

But,  notwithstanding  the  continual  supplies  of 
grace  and  virtue  from  Christ,  whereby  we  are 
sanctified  or  made  sincerely  holy ;  yet,  by  reason 
of  the  remainder  of  sins  in  us,  neither  ,pur  persons 
nor  our  actions  are  perfectly  righteous,  and,  by  con- 

1  Acts,  v.  31.  «  John,  xv.  5.  3  Phil.  iv.*]3. 


270     our  lord's  obedience  unto  death. 

sequence,  not  acceptable  in  themselves  to  God. 
But  this  also  our  blessed  Saviour  hath  taken  care 
of,  making  up  the  defects  and  imperfections,  both 
of  our  persons  and  duties,  with  that  most  perfect 
and  divine  obedience  which  he  performed  in  our 
natures.  By  which  means  we  may  be  justified  or 
accepted  of,  and  accounted  as  righteous  before  God, 
as  if  we  were  exactly  so  in  ourselves  :  so  that,  '  as 
by  one  man's  disobedience,  many  were  made  sin- 
ners;  so  by  the  obedience  of  one,  shall  many  be 
made  righteous.'  ■ 

But,  ■  many  ? '  you  may  say — Why  not  all  ? 
Christ  did  not  take  upon  him  the  person  or  persons 
of  one  or  more  particular  men,  but  the  nature  of 
man  in  general,  and  died  in  it :  why  then  are  not 
all  saved  that  are  of  that  nature  ?  To  which  I  an- 
swer, it  is  true,  it  is  indeed  a  great  wonder,  that 
Christ  having  died  in  the  nature  of  man,  and  so  put 
all  mankind  into  a  capacity  of  being  saved  by  him, 
yet  that  all  should  not  be  saved  by  him.  But  this 
certainly  cannot  be  imputed  to  any  defect  or  insuf- 
ficiency in  his  merits,  or  power  to  save  them  ;  but  it 
must  be  wholly  their  own  faults,  in  that  they  will  not 
do  what  God  requires,  in  order  to  their  having  the 
merits  of  Christ's  obedience  and  sufferings,  in  their 
human  nature,  applied  and  made  over  to  their  own 
particular  human  persons ;  that  is,  they  will  not 
believe  in  him,  nor  trust  in  those  promises  which 
are  made  and  sealed  to  us  in  his  blood.  For  this 
is  the  great  condition  required  on  our  parts,  in 
order  to  our  partaking  of  what  he  hath  merited  foi 
us ;  as  appears  from  the  whole  tenor  of  the  gospel, 
yea,  from  Christ's  own  express  words,  who  best 

'  Rom.  v.  19. 


BY   BISHOP   BEVERIDGE.  271 

knew  upon  what  terms  we  should  be  saved  by  him. 
For  '  God  so  loved  the  world,'  saith  he,  '  that  he 
sent  his  only  begotten  Son,  that  whosoever  believeth 
in  him  should  not  perish,  but  have  everlasting  life.'1 
•  He  that  believeth  in  him  is  not  condemned  ;  but 
he  that  believeth  not,  is  condemned  already,  because 
he  believeth  not  in  the  name  of  the  only  begotten 
Son  of  God.' s  And  elsewhere,  '  He  that  believeth 
and  is  baptized,  shall  be  saved  ;  but  he  that  be- 
lieveth not,  shall  be  damned.'3 

There  are  many  such  expressions  dispersed  over 
the  whole  Bible;  which  plainly  show  that  the 
main  thing  required  of  us,  in  order  to  our  being 
saved  by  Christ,  is  to  believe  in  him,  to  have  a  sure 
trust  and  confidence  on  him,  for  all  things  neces- 
sary to  our  salvation. 

And  the  first  and  great  thing  we  must  believe 
and  trust  in  him  for,  is  for  grace  to  repent  and 
forsake  our  sins ;  for  such  a  measure  of  his  Holy 
Spirit,  whereby  we  may  mortify  the  deeds  of  the 
flesh,  and  be  sanctified  throughout  in  soul,  body 
and  spirit.  For  though  our  human  nature  in  ge- 
neral, be  sanctified  by  its  being  united  to  the  divine 
person,  no  human  person  in  particular  can  be  sanc- 
tified, but  by  *  partaking  of  the  divine  nature,' 
communicated  to  us  by  the  operation  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,  which  Christ  is  always  ready  to  give  to 
those  who  believe  in  him  for  it;4  insomuch,  that 
whosoever  doth  not  receive  grace  and  assistance 
from  him  to  live  soberly,  righteously,  and  godly  in 
this  present  world,  he  may  pretend  what  he  will, 
but  he  doth  not  believe  in  Christ  as  he  ought;  for 

1  John,  iii.  16.  «  Ibid.  v.  18. 

Mark,  xvi.  16.  *  John,  vii.  38, 39. 


272     our    ord's   obedience  unto  death. 

if  he  did,  he  could  not  fail  of  being  purified  and 
made  holy  by  him.  This  being  the  great  end  why 
Christ  gave  himself  for  us,  '  that  he  might  redeem 
us  from  all  iniquity,  and  purify  us  to  himself,  a  pe- 
culiar people,  zealous  of  good  works.'1 

When  by  our  believing  in  Christ,  we  have  thus 
obtained  power  and  grace  to  repent  of  our  sins, 
then  we  may,  and  ought,  to  trust  in  him  also  for 
the  pardon  of  those  sins  which  we  have  thus  re- 
pented of;  steadfastly  believing,  that  how  many 
and  great  soever  our  former  sins  have  been,  yet 
that  now,  upon  our  hearty  and  sincere  repentance 
of  them,  God  hath  absolved  us  from  them  all,  for 
Christ  Jesus's  sake,  and  hath  accepted  of  that  death 
and  punishment  which  his  own  Son  underwent  in 
our  natures,  as  if  it  had  been  undergone  by  us  in 
our  own  persons ;  so  as  to  be  now  as  perfectly  re- 
conciled to  us,  as  if  he  had  never  been  offended  at  ■ 
all  with  us;  yea,  that  he  doth  not  only  pardon  and 
forgive  us  what  is  past,  but  he  reckons  us  in  the 
number  of  righteous  persons,  and  accepts  of  us  as 
such,  in  his  beloved  Son  ;  who  knowing  no  sin  in 
himself,  ■  was  made  sin  for  us,  that  we  might  be 
made  the  righteousness  of  God  in  him.'  *  And  not 
only  our  persons,  but  that  our  actions  also,  even 
our  sincere,  though  imperfect  duties  and  good 
works,  are  all  acceptable  to  God  through  Jesus 
Christ  our  Lord;3  and  that,  being  thus  justified 
by  him  in  time,  we  shall  be  glorified  with  him  for 
evermore.4 

By  such  a  regular  and  lively  faith  as  this  (which 
always  works  by  love)  none  of  us  but  may  be  really 

1  Tit.ii.  14.  s2Cor.  v.  21. 

*  1  Peter,  ii.  5.  *  Rom.  viii  30 


BY   BISHOP   BEVERIDGE.  2?3 

interested  in  all  these  glorious  things  which  the  Son 
of  God  hath  purchased  for  us  with  his  own  blood  ; 
for  faith,  as  the  apostle  tells  us,  *  is  the  substance 
of  things  hoped  for,  and  the  evidence  of  things  not 
seen.'1  It  is  the  substance  of  things  hoped  for; — 
that  is,  of  whatsoever  good  things  we  hope  for  upon 
the  account  of  what  Christ  hath  done  and  suffered 
for  us,  and  God  hath  promised  to  us  for  his  sake. 
Faith  is  the  very  substance  of  them  to  us ;  it  causeth 
them  to  subsist  in  us,  and  so  puts  us  into  the  ac- 
tual possession  of  them.  As,  do  we  hope  for 
Christ's  Holy  Spirit  to  sanctify  and  make  us  holy  ? 
By  faith,  as  we  dwell  in  Christ,  Christ's  Spirit 
dwells  in  us ;  we  are  one  with  Christ,  and  Christ 
with  us;  and  so  we  have  the  'substance'  of  what 
we  hope  for,  even  his  divine  nature  subsisting  vir- 
tually in  us,  as  our  human  nature  really  subsisted 
in  him.  And  therefore  Christ  himself  saith,  'that 
we  are  sanctified  by  faith  that  is  in  him.'2  Do  we 
hope  for  Christ's  merits  to  pardon  and  justify  us 
before  God  ?  Faith  is  the  substance  of  them  to  us; 
applying  and  appropriating  all  the  merits  of  Christ's 
obedience  and  sufferings  in  our  nature  to  our  own 
particular  person.  And  therefore  it  is  that  we  are 
so  often  said  to  be  justified  by  faith,  not  as  it  is  a 
work  in  us,  but  as  it  is  the  substance  of  Christ's 
righteousness  to  us,  so  that  we  also  are  accounted 
as  righteous  by  it. 

The  same  may  be  said  of  all  the  great  blessings 
which  Christ  hath  purchased  for  us,  and  God  hath 
promised  to  us  in  him,  and  which  by  consequence 
we  hope  for  from  him.  Faith  is  so  the  substance 
of  them  to  us,  that  by  it  we  actually  obtain  and 

1  Heb.  xi.  1.  *  Acts,  xxvi.  18. 


274     our  lord's  obedience  unto  death. 

enjoy  them.  Insomuch,  that  they  who  have  a  strong 
and  steadfast  faith  in  Christ,  are  so  fully  possessed 
of  God's  love  and  mercy  in  him,  that  nothing  is 
able  to  remove  them  from  it.  A  remarkable  in- 
stance whereof  we  have  in  St.  Paul,  who  acting  his 
faith  and  confidence  in  his  Saviour,  cries  out  in  a 
Uiumphant  manner,  'Who  shall  lay  any  thing  to 
the  charge  of  God's  elect?  It  is  God  that  justi- 
fieth,  who  is  he  that  condemneth  ?  It  is  Christ 
that  died,  yea  rather,  that  is  risen  again,  who  is 
even  at  the  right  hand  of  God,  who  also  maketh 
intercession  for  us.  Who  shall  separate  us  from 
the  love  of  Christ  ?  Shall  tribulation,  or  distress, 
or  persecution,  or  famine,  or  nakedness,  or  peril,  or 
sword  !  Nay,  in  all  these  things  we  are  more  than 
conquerors  through  him  that  loved  us.  For  I  am 
persuaded,  that  neither  death,  nor  life,  nor  angels, 
nor  principalities,  nor  powers,  nor  things  present, 
nor  things  to  come,  nor  height,  nor  depth,  nor  any 
other  creature,  shall  be  able  to  separate  us  from 
the  love  of  God,  which  is  in  Christ  Jesus  our  Lord'1 
Thus  have  I  endeavoured  to  unfold,  as  much  as  I 
could,  of  the  great  mystery  of  our  salvation  by 
Christ.  I  am  very  sensible,  that  there  are  many 
things  in  it,  which  we  are  not  able  to  conceive,  and 
that  we  may  conceive  much  more  than  we  are  able 
to  express.  Howsoever,  from  these  great  and  ne- 
cessary truths  which  we  have  now  premised,  as 
plainly  revealed  in  the  gospel,  and  therefore  be- 
lieved always  by  the  catholic  church,  none  of  us 
but  may  easily  discern  what  cause  we  have  to  be- 
lieve that  mankind  in  general,  and  by  consequence 
all  we  in  particular,  notwithstanding  our  fall  from 

'  Rom.  viii.  33,  &c. 


BY   BISHOP   BEVERIDGE.  275 

our  first  estate,  are  now  capable  of  obtaining  eternal 
bliss  and  happiness,  which  the  fallen  angels  are 
not  capable  of.  For  they,  as  they  have  all  sinned 
against  God,  so  they  must  all  bear  every  one  the 
punishment  of  his  own  sins  in  his  own  person  ; 
there  being  no  other  way  whereby  Almighty  God 
can  manifest  his  justice  and  displeasure  against 
them  for  it ;  for  as  the  apostle  observes,  the  Son  of 
God  took  not  on  him  the  nature  of  angels,  but  the 
seed  of  Abraham ;  and  therefore  the  apostate  an- 
gels are  never  the  better  for  all  his  sufferings  as  not 
being  undergone  in  their  nature.  And  therefore 
their  case  is  desperate,  their  misery  unavoidable. 
It  is  true,  they  know  and  believe  there  is  a  God, 
but  they  cannot  trust  on  him,  nor  expect  any 
mercy  from  him ;  for  he  never  promised  them  any. 
And  therefore  they  '  believe  and  tremble/  as  know- 
ing that  God  is  always  angry  with  them,  and  can 
by  no  means  be  ever  reconciled  TO  them.  And 
hence  it  is,  that  they  can  never  repent  of  their  sins; 
and  if  they  did,  it  would  stand  them  in  no  stead. 
No  :  sentence  is  past  upon  them,  they  are  all  con- 
demned to  everlasting  fire.  And  there  is  no  re- 
medy, but  they  must  endure  it  for  ever. 

But  blessed  be  God,  the  case  is  not  so  with  us; 
for  he  himself  hath  provided  us  a  Saviour,  an  all- 
sufficient  Saviour,  one  who  is  able  to  save  to  the 
utmost  '  all  that  come  unto  God  by  him,  seeing 
he  ever  liveth  to  make  intercession  for  them.'' 

Indeed,  this  is  that  which  crowns  all  the  rest; 
that  as  he  once  died  to  make  satisfaction  for  us 
upon  earth,  he  ever  lives  to  make  intercession  for 
us  in  heaven,  where  he  now  is  in  our  nature  united 

1  Heb.  vii.  25. 

t  2 


276     OUR  lord's  obedience   unto  death 

to  his  divine  person;  upon  which  account,  God 
hath  so  highly  exalted  him,  even  as  he  is  man, 
that  he  *  hath  given  him  a  name,  which  is  above 
every  name,  that  at  the  name  of  Jesus  every  knee 
should  bow,  of  things  in  heaven,  and  things  on 
earth,  and  things  under  the  earth,  and  that  every 
tongue  should  confess,  that  Jesus  Christ  is  Lord, 
to  the  glory  of  God  the  Father.'1  So  that  he  is 
now  '  advanced  above  all  principality  and  power, 
and  might  and  dominion,  and  every  name  which  is 
named,  not  only  in  this  world,  but  also  in  that 
which  is  to  come,  and  God  hath  put  all  things 
under  his  feet,  and  hath  given  him  to  be  head  of 
all  things  to  the  church.'8  Such  a  glorious  Savi- 
our have  we  now  in  heaven,  whom  the  angels  them- 
selves are  bound  to  worship  and  continually  do  it : 
and  though  his  manhood  be  only  in  heaven,  his  di- 
vine person,  to  which  that  manhood  is  united,  is 
every  where  uf>on  earth  too.  So  that  be  we  where 
we  will,  he  is  always  present  with  us,  and  we  may 
make  our  applications  to  him  when  we  please. 
When  we  are  at  our  devotions,  public  or  private, 
he  is  there  ready  to  assist  and  perfume  them  with 
his  own  merits.  When  we  are  in  secret,  where  no 
body  else  sees  us,  be  sure  he  doth.  When  we  are 
in  straits,  and  know  not  whither  else  to  go  for 
help,  we  may  still  go  to  him  '  who  loved  us  and 
gave  himself  for  us;'  and  hath  therefore  told  us, 
that  '  those  that  come  to  him,  he  will  in  no  wise 
cast  out.'3 

This  therefore  is  that  which  I  would  now  advise 
you  to.  For  which  purpose  you  must  give  me 
leave  to  speak  freely  to  you,  for  I  come  not  to  you 

1  Phil.  U.  9, 10.         •  Eph.  L  21,  22.         3  John,  vi.  37. 


BY    BISHOP    BEVERIDGE.  277 

in  my  own  name,  but  in  his  name  who  died  for 
you,  who  redeemed  you  to  himself  with  his  own 
blood,  and  therefore  may  well  be  allowed  to  be 
plain  with  you. 

That  you  are  all  sinners,  I  need  not  tell  you ; 
but  I  must  tell  you,  that  as  ye  are  sinful,  ye  can- 
not but  be  miserable  too ;  yea,  therefore  miserable 
because  sinful;  so  miserable,  that  ye  are  all  by 
nature  the  children  of  wrath,  whatsoever  outward 
prosperity  ye  may  seem  to  enjoy.  Ye  are  always 
liable  not  only  to  be  stripped  of  that,  but  to  be 
tormented  with  all  the  pain,  and  shame,  and  hor- 
ror, that  either  your  souls  or  bodies  are  capable 
of;  for  he  that  made  you,  is  angry  with  you,  and 
incensed  against  you.  And  what  will  you  do,  if 
he  should  rise  up  to  take  vengeance  of  you,  for 
breaking  those  wise,  and  good,  and  righteous  laws, 
that  he  hath  set  before  you  ?  Can  you  be  able  to 
dwell  with  everlasting  burnings,  or  endure  the 
scorchings  of  a  consuming  fire  ?  How  would  you 
be  amazed  and  confounded  if  you  should  see  Om- 
nipotence itself  setting  itself  against  you;  glory, 
majesty,  justice,  yea,  goodness  and  mercy  itself 
frowning  upon  you,  demeaning  itself  as  angry  and 
displeased  with  you,  and  therefore  pouring  down 
fury,  vengeance  and  indignation  upon  you  every 
moment  ? 

Yet  this  is  no  more  than  what  your  sins  have 
made  you  all  obnoxious  to.  Insomuch,  that  if  you 
look  no  further  than  yourselves,  you  have  no 
ground  to  expect  one  moment's  respite  out  of  the 
infernal  flames,  *  prepared  for  the  devil  and  his 
angels.' 

Consider  this,  and  then  tell  me,  what  you  think 


278     our  lord's  obedience  unto  death. 

of  a  Saviour,  one  who  can  save  you  from  your  sins, 
and  from  the  wrath  of  God  that  is  due  unto  you 
for  them  ?  One  that  can  reconcile  almighty  God 
to  you,  and  you  to  him  ?  One  who  can  alter  your 
estate  and  disposition  too,  so  as  to  make  you  equal 
to  the  holy  angels  themselves  both  in  grace  and 
glory  ?  How  happy  would  the  fiends  of  hell  ac- 
count themselves,  if  they  had  such  a  Saviour! 
How  earnestly  would  they  flock  after  him,  and 
strive  which  should  embrace  and  love  him  most, 
which  should  serve  and  please  him  best,  that  so 
they  might  be  restored  by  him  to  their  former  es- 
tate again!  But  this  is  a  happiness  which  they 
can  never  hope  for,  it  being  designed  only  for  man- 
kind. But  it  being  designed  for  mankind  in  ge- 
neral, all  you  that  hear  me  at  this  time  may  not 
only  hope  for  it,  but  you  may  have  it  too  if  ye 
will ;  nay,  it  is  God's  pleasure  and  command  you 
should ;  for  he  would  have  all  men  to  be  saved, 
and  by  consequence  you  amongst  the  rest.  And 
therefore  if  any  of  you  be  not,  the  only  reason  is, 
because  ye  will  not.  '  Ye  will  not,'  as  Christ  said, 
'come  to  kim,  that  ye  might  have  life.'1  And  no 
wonder  then  if  you  be  not  saved,  when  ye  will  not 
come  to  him  who  alone  can  do  it. 

But  are  there  any  such  men  in  the  world  ? — 
men  that  will  not  be  saved,  though  they  may? — 
men  that  refuse  happiness  when  it  is  proferred 
them,  and  had  rather  continue  in  sin  and  misery, 
than  to  be  freed  from  it  ?  I  wish  there  were  not, 
but  fear  there  are  too  many  such  amongst  our- 
selves; some  that  think  they  can  save  themselves, 
and  therefore  will  not  be  beholden  to  Christ  for  it ; 

1  John,  v.  40. 


BY    BISHOP   BEVERIDGE.  279 

others  so  much  in  love  with  sin,  that  they  will  not 
part  from  it  for  all  that  Christ  hath  purchased  for 
them,  and  therefore  will  not£o  to  him,  for  fear  lest 
he  should  make  them  holy.  But  the  greatest  part 
of  mankind,  and  of  those  also  who  have  given  up 
their  names  to  Christ,  are  so  much  taken  with  the 
sensible  objects  they  converse  with  here  below, 
that  they  prefer  them  before  all  that  the  Son  of  God 
hath  or  ever  can  do  for  them !  Ungrateful  wretches! 
Is  this  the  return  you  make  the  Son  of  God  for  all 
his  love  and  kindness  to  you!  What  could  he 
have  done — what  could  he  have  suffered — what 
could  he  have  procured  more  for  you,  than  he  hath 
done?  And  is  all  this  nothing? — not  so  much 
as  the  dreams  and  shadows  of  this  transient  world  ? 
But  I  hope  there  are  not  many  such  amongst 
you,  and  heartily  wish  there  were  none  at  all. 
Howsoever,  give  me  leave  to  deal  plainly  with  you. 
Do  ye  really  believe  that  Jesus  Christ  came  into 
the  world  to  save  sinners,  or  do  ye  not  ?  If  you 
do  not,  what  make  you  here,  especially  upon  this 
day  ?  Why  are  ye  not  rather  at  some  Turkish 
mosque,  or  idol-temple,  or  else  about  your  worldly 
business  ?  What  need  you  concern  yourselves 
about  the  death  of  Christ,  if  ye  do  not  believe  that 
he  died  to  save  sinners  ?  But,  do  ye  really  believe 
Jiat  he  died  to  save  sinners  ?  Then  he  died  to 
save  you,  who  cannot  but  acknowledge  yourselves 
to  be  sinners.  And  if  so,  what  mean  you,  that  ye 
mind  not  your  salvation  by  him,  more  than  all 
things  in  the  world  besides  ?  Is  it  not  the  greatest, 
the  only  happiness  you  can  ever  attain  to  ?  Did  the 
Son  of  God  himself  think  it  worth  his  while  to  lay 
down  his  own  life  to  procure  it  for  you,  and  can 


280     our  lord's  obedience  unto  death. 

you  think  it  worth  your  while  to  lay  down  your 
lives  in  the  pursuit  of  it  ?  Certainly  you  cannot 
think  so.  But  why  'then  is  it  that  you  do  not 
do  it  ? 

Especially,  considering  that  how  great  an  happi- 
ness soever  it  be,  there  is  not  a  soul  here  present 
but  may  attain  it,  if  you  will  but  set  yourselves  in 
good  earnest  about  it ;  Christ's  blood  being  of  that 
infinite  value  and  virtue,  that  it  can  both  expiate 
and  cleanse  you  from  all  your  sins;  as  many  thou- 
sands have  found  already  by  their  own  experience, 
who  once  were  miserable  sinners  upon  earth,  as 
you  now  are,  but  are  now  by  Christ  made  glorified 
saints  in  heaven.  And  why  may  not  you  be  made 
so  as  well  as  they  ?  You  have  all  the  same  Savi- 
our as  they  had,  and  he  is  both  as  able  and  as 
willing  to  save  you,  as  he  was  to  save  them.  Inso- 
much, that  if  any  of  you  perish,  your  blood  will  be 
upon  your  own  heads.  And  not  only  yours,  but 
his  too ;  in  that  you  neglect  and  trample  upon  it, 
and  will  not  make  use  of  it  to  the  saving  of  your 
souls,  for  which  he  shed  it. 

But  let  others  do  what  they  please,  and  take 
what  follows.  Let  us,  who  believe  what  we  have 
now  heard,  even,  that  Jesus  Christ  being  in  the 
form  of  God,  took  upon  him  the  form  of  a  servant, 
the  nature  of  man ;  and  in  it  was  obedient  to  death, 
even  the  death  of  the  cross,  that  he  might  save  us 
from  our  sins,  and  make  us  happy ; — let  us,  I  say, 
who  profess  to  believe  this,  endeavour  to  live  ac- 
cordingly, that  we  may  lay  hold  on  that  eternal 
life,  which  the  Son  of  God  hath  purchased  for  us 
at  so  dear  a  rate.  For  which  purpose,  let  us  apply 
ourselves  to  him  in  the  sincere  and  constant  use  of 


BY   BISHOP    BEVERIDGE.  281 

those  means  which  he  hath  appointed  for  our  ob- 
taining salvation  by  him;  such  as  praying  and 
fasting,  reading  and  hearing  his  holy  word,  and  re- 
ceiving his  mystical  body  and  blood,  still  trusting 
in  him  to.  assist  and  influence  them  so  with  his 
Holy  Spirit,  that  they  may  be  effectual  to  the  ends 
for  which  he  hath  ordained  them,  even  to  the  be- 
getting and  confirming  our  faith  in  him,  and  so  to 
the  mortifying  our  lusts,  and  to  the  quickening  us 
with  newness  of  life.  Let  us  study  his  gospel,  and 
whatsoever  he  hath  there  said,  let  us  therefore  be- 
lieve it,  because  he  who  is  truth  itself  hath  said  it ; 
and  whatsoever  he  there  commands,  let  us  therefore 
do  it,  because  he  hath  commanded  it,  who  coming 
into  the  world  on  purpose  to  save  us,  would  be 
sure  to  command  us  nothing,  but  what  is  absolutely 
necessary  for  our  salvation. 

Wheresoever  we  are,  let  our  eye  be  still  upon 
him  as  always  present  with  us,  and  interceding 
with  his  Father  for  us.  'Whatsoever  we  do,  in  word 
or  deed,'  let  us  '  do  all  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus/ 
trusting  on  him  for  his  assistance  of  us  in  the  doing 
it ;  and  for  God's  acceptance  of  it  when  it  is  done. 
Let  our  minds  be  always  running  after  him,  and 
our  faith  so  steadfastly  fixed  on  him,  that  we  may 
continually  derive  grace  and  virtue  from  him,  to 
subdue  our  corruptions,  to  withstand  temptations, 
to  live  above  the  world,  and  to  walk  in  all  the  com- 
mandments of  God  blameless.  Whatsoever  our 
condition  be  in  this  life,  let  us  still  believe  in  him 
that  died  for  us,  to  bless  and  sanctify  it  to  the  end 
for  which  he  died,  even  to  the  salvation  of  our 
souls.  Let  us  not  despond  or  despair  of  God's 
mercy  to  us,  nor  of  any  thing  that  is,  or  can  be 
good  for  us  ;  '  for  he  that  spared  not  his  own  Son, 


*82  our  lord's  obedience  unto  death. 

but  delivered  him  up  for  us  all,  how  shall  he  not 
but  with  him  also  freely  give  us  all  things  ?M 

Being  thus  prepared  and  qualified  for  it,  let  us 
put  our  whole  trust  and  confidence  in  him,  to 
pardon  and  absolve  us  from  all  our  sins,  to  defend 
and  protect  us  from  whatsoever  is  really  evil  for  us, 
to  guide  us  into  all  truth,  to  confirm  and  strengthen 
us  in  all  goodness,  to  direct,  assist,  and  bless  us 
through  the  whole  course  of  our  pilgrimage  here 
below ;  that  when  we  depart  out  of  this  miserable 
and  wicked  world,  we  may  go  to  him  who  hath 
done  these  great  things  for  us,  and  enjoy  that  life 
which  he  hath  purchased  by  his  own  death,  even 
life  with  him,  the  eternal  Son  of  God  our  Saviour, 
to  whom  with  the  Father  and  the  Holy  Ghost,  be 
all  honour  and  glory  now  and  for  ever.     Amen. 

1  Rom.  viii.    32. 


SERMON  XIII. 

THE  BELIEVER  CRUCIFIED  WITH 
CHRIST. 

BY  DR.  WATTS. 


[IftAAC  Watts  wu  ton  in  1674,  and  died  in  174  •] 


SERMON    XIII. 


Galatians  ii.  20. 

f  am  crucified  with  Christ ;  nevertheless  x  live. 

It  is  a  peculiar  delight  that  our  apostle  takes  in 
exalting  the  gospel  of  Christ  above  the  law  of 
works,  and  in  raising  the  life  and  the  privileges  of 
a  Christian,  above  the  life  of  a  heathen  or  a  Jew, 
or  above  any  other  character  or  profession  amongst 
men.  He  divests  himself  of  all  former  characters, 
and  abandons  all  other  principles  of  life,  that  he 
may  put  on  the  Christian,  and  derive  a  better  life 
from  Jesus  the  Son  of  God,  by  faith  in  his  name ; 
and  this  he  does  not  only  in  his  own  person,  but 
as  sharing  in  the  common  principles  of  Chris- 
tianity :  this  does  not  belong  only  to  himself,  but 
to  all  the  saints  of  the  Lord,  as  very  clearly  ap- 
pears in  other  parts  of  this  epistle,  and  also  in 
other  epistles  that  this  apostle  has  written,  though 
he  expresses  it  here  in  his  own  name.  I  shall  ac- 
cordingly draw  the  two  following  propositions  from 
the  two  sentences  of  my  text,  and  endeavour  to  im- 
prove them 


286    THE    BELIEVER    CRUCIFIED    WITH    CHRIST. 

Prop.  I.  Every  true  Christian  has  communion 
with  Christ  in  his  death  :  *  I  am  crucified  with 
Christ/ 

Prop.  II.  Every  believer  lives  a  different  life  from 
what  he  himself  has  heretofore  lived,  or  from  what 
other  persons  are  acquainted  with  :  though  '  I  am 
crucified,  yet  I  live.'  I  am  dead  to  that  life  which  I 
once  lived  in  the  flesh  ;  and  it  is  quite  in  another 
way  and  manner,  and  from  other  principles,  that 
I  now  live,  and  act,  and  perform  the  several  duties 
of  my  station. 

I.  Every  true  Christian  has  communion  with 
Christ  in  his  death,  and  may  be  said  to  be  crucified 
with  Christ;  and  that,  in  these  four  respects :-*- 

1.  Every  true  Christian  is  dead  to  the  wtfrld 
by  his  interest  in  the  death  of  Christ ;  dead  to  all 
the  troubles,  and  to  all  the  delights  of  this  present 
state,  as  the  apostle  expresses  it :  'God  forbid  that 
I  should  glory,  save  in  the  cross  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  by  whom  the  world  is  crucified  unto  me, 
and  I  unto  the  world.'1  He  and  the  world  had 
nothing  to  do  with  each  other ;  like  two  dead 
things,  they  had  no  influence  upon  one  another. 
He  was  dead  to  the  riches,  and  to  the  poverty  of  the 
world.  Riches  do  not  puff  up  the  Christian,  when 
he  acts  according  to  the  principles  of  his  new  life, 
nor  does  poverty  overwhelm  or  sink  his  spirits  : 
he  knows  with  the  apostle,  f  how  to  abound,  and 
how  to  be  abased/  and  is  still  the  same :  he  says 
to  honours,  and  riches,  and  reproaches  in  the 
world,  "What  are  these  things  to  him  who  has 
learned  to  taste  and  value  the  praise  of  God,  and 
the  honour  he  expects  among  the  holy  angels  ? " 
He  is  so  far  dead  to  the  relations  and  dearest  com- 

1  Gal.vi.  14. 


BY    DR.    WATTS.  287 

forts.of  life,  that  they  do  not  draw  him  away  from 
the  consideration  of  his  last  end,  nor  from  his  close 
walking  with  God  in  the  Redeemer :  he  knows 
them  no  more  after  the  flesh  ;  as  the  apostle  speaks 
of  the  Jews,  and  of  Jesus  Christ  himself  as  one  of 
the  Jews,  *  Henceforth  know  we  no  man  after  the 
flesh  :  yea,  though  we  have  known  Christ  after  the 
.flesh,  yet  now  henceforth  know  we  him  no  more.'1 
I  have  no  respect  for  him  as  being  of  my  nation 
and  the  seed  of  Israel,  but  as  the  common  Saviour 
of  mankind,  and  as  such  I  live  in  and  by  him. 

He  is  weaned  from  life  itself:  ■  I  protest  by  your 
rejoicing  which  I  have  in  Christ  Jesus  our  Lord,  I 
die  daily  ;'8  that  is,  I  put  myself  daily  in  a  readi- 
ness to  die ;  I  set  myself  daily  upon  the  borders 
of  the  grave;  I  expose  myself  in  my  thoughts 
beforehand  unto  death ;  I  am  ready  to  pass  that 
important  hour  whenever  my  Redeemer  appoints 
me ;  I  am  ready  to  lie  as  one  that  has  quitted  all 
pretences  to  this  life,  and  is  ready  to  part  with 
all  the  possessions  of  it ;  and  this  through  the 
influence  of  the  death  of  Christ.  The  death  of 
Christ  has  been  the  price  or  purchase  of  this  grace 
that  mortifies  a  Christian  thus  to  the  world ;  he 
has  bought  the  influence  of  the  divine  Spirit  of  the 
Father,  by  which  influence  a  Christian  becomes  a 
new  creature,  and  is  mortified  to  every  thing  that 
before  had  power  over  him. 

Christ's  death  is  also  the  pattern  of  a  believer's 
crucifixion  to  the  world.  Our  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
young  as  he  was,  in  the  full  vigour  of  life,  and  in 
a  capacity  for  the  enjoyment  of  all  the  delights  of 
sense,  left  the  world.     The  death  of  Christ  speaks 

1  2  Cor  v.  16.  «  1  Cor.  xv.  31. 


THE    BELIEVER    CRUCIFIED    WITH    CHRIST. 

this  in  the  ear  and  heart  of  every  believer,  "  The 
world  is  not  worth  living  in."  The  death  of  Christ, 
and  his  abandoning  the  world  so  soon,  have  poured 
abundance  of  contempt  upon  the  manner  of  living 
in  this  world.  The  life  of  Christ  in  the  world,  in 
poverty,  in  the  form  of  a  servant,  has  poured  scorn 
upon  all  the  grandeur,  riches,  and  honours  of  it. 
The  King  of  heaven,  when  he  dwelt  here  upon 
earth,  did  not  think  them  worth  taking.  The  man- 
ner of  his  death  and  burial  has  poured  contempt 
upon  every  thing  that  is  magnificent  in  death ; 
upon  all  the  pomp  of  funerals,  and  the  honours  of 
the  grave.  He  hung  upon  the  cross,  and  sub- 
mitted to  death  in  the  most  dishonourable  way,  by 
dying  like  a  malefactor  or  a  slave;  his  body  was 
begged  and  conveyed  away  to  a  private  sepulchre 
in  a  garden,  though  he  might  have  had  the  attend- 
ance of  mourning  angels,  and  all  the  show  of 
heaven  waiting  at  his  funeral.  All  this  was  ap- 
pointed to  humble  the  pride  of  man,  to  make  us 
see  that  there  is  nothing  in  all  the  vanities  of  life 
desirable.     Our  head  has  despised  them  all. 

2.  A  believer  is  not  only  dead  to  this  world,  but 
he  is  dead  in  an  especial  manner  to  sin,  by  the 
death  of  Christ.  Sin  is  mortified  in  him  by  the 
crucifixion  of  his  Lord;  sin  received  its  death- 
wound  upon  the  cross  of  our  Redeemer.  The 
apostle  speaks  of  this  at  large  in  his  epistle  to  the 
Romans  :  •  Knowing  this,  that  our  old  man  is  cru- 
cified with  him  ;'  that  is,  the  principle  of  sin  within 
us,  the  corrupt  nature  that  we  brought  into  the 
world  with  us;  '  that  the  body  of  sin  might  be  de- 
stroyed, that  henceforth  we  should  not  serve  sin, 
for  he  that  is  dead  is  freed  from  sin.  Likewise 
reckon  ye  also  yourselves  to  be  dead  indeed  unto 


BY    DR.    WATTS.  289 

sin.  Let  not  sin  therefore  reign  in  your  mortal 
body,  that  ye  should  obey  it  in  the  lusts  thereof.'1 
Did  Jesus  Christ  undergo  a  painful  and  shameful 
death,  that  sin  might  die,  and  shall  a  Christian  re- 
vive it  ?  Did  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  nail  sin  to  his 
cross,  and  shall  we  subdue  ourselves  to  the  power 
of  it,  when  our  Lord  has  subdued  its  power  ?  Sin- 
ful pleasures  can  have  no  allurements  to  a  Chris- 
tian, for  they  are  all  nailed  to  the  cross  of  Christ. 

The  death  of  Christ  has  slain  sin,  and  the  Chris- 
tian will  not  suffer  an  enemy  so  conquered  and  so 
trampled  upon  to  overcome  him.  This  is  the 
language  of  the  Christian  life,  this  is  the  spirit  and 
the  temper  of  the  Christian  nature ;  but  too  often 
the  believer  sinks  beneath  it. 

3.  A  believer  is  dead  to  the  law  of  works,  by  the 
death  of  Christ;  he  is  free  from  the  rigour  and 
curses  of  the  law,  by  his  union  to  Christ  in  his  death : 
'  Christ  hath  redeemed  us  from  the  curse  of  the 
law,  being  made  a  curse  for  us.'a 

A  believer  is  dead  to  the  law  as  a  covenant  of 
works,  and  the  law  is  dead  to  him  ;  for,  considered 
as  such,  it  can  neither  hurt  nor  help  him,  nor  does 
he  either  fear  or  hope  for  any  thing  from  it.  Christ, 
our  surety  and  our  representative,  was  crucified, 
sustained  the  accursed  death,  and  thereby  fulfilled 
the  law,  so  that  it  has  no  more  to  say  to  Christ; 
and  if  we  are  one  with  him,  it  has  no  more  to  say 
to  us,  it  cannot  condemn  us.  The  apostle,  in  b*i& 
epistle  to  the  Romans,  not  only  shows  that  it 
cannot  condemn  us,  but  he  shows  that  it  has  not 
power  in  us  or  over  us,  to  irritate  and  provoke  sin 
as  formerly  it  had:  'Wherefore,  my  brethren,  ye 

1  Rom.  vi.  6,  7  Hi  12.  *  Gal.  iii.  13. 

u 


290       THE    BELIEVER    CRUCIFIED    BY    CHRIST. 

also  are  become  dead  to  the  law,  by  the  body  of 
Christ. — When  we  were  in  the  flesh,  the  motions  of 
sin  that  were  by  the  law,'  that  is,  that  took  occasion 
to  rise  up  in  opposition  to  the  commands  of  God, 
and  the  law  of  God, *  did  work  in  our  members  to 
bring  forth  fruit  unto  death.  But  now  we  are  de- 
livered from  the  law ;  that  being  dead  wherein  we 
were  held;'  that  is,  the  covenant  of  works  being 
dead,  being  finished  by  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  our 
great  representative  that  suffered  for  us,  we  may 
now  ■  serve  him  in  newness  of  spirit/  under  the 
principles  of  a  divine  life,  and  not  'in  the  oldness 
of  the  letter/ '  by  the  constraint  and  terrors  of  the 
law,  as  I  shall  afterwards  show  you. 

4.  A  believer  is  dead  to  the  Jewish  dispensation 
of  the  gospel,  and  to  all  yokes  and  tokens  of  bond- 
age, by  the  death  of  Christ.  For  the  Jews  had  the 
gospel  preached  to  them  as  well  as  we,  but  under 
darkness,  and  clouds,  and  figures,  and  many  cere- 
monies, whereby  the  glory  of  it  was  obscured,  and 
the  liberty,  and  beauty,  and  light  of  it  were  mingled 
with  much  bondage  and  terror  ;  but  our  Lord  Jesus 
has  cancelled  all  these  forms  of  things  by  his  death, 
and  has  freed  believers  from  them  :  '  wherefore,  if 
ye  be  dead  with  Christ/  says  the  apostle,  '  from 
the  rudiments  of  the  world/  by  which  he  has  a  pe- 
culiar regard  to  the  Jewish  ceremonies ;  why,  as 
though  living  in  the  world, 'are  ye  subject  to  ordi- 
nances now?  for  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  'blotted 
out  the  hand-writing  of  ordinances  that  was  against 
us,  that  was  contrary  tons/  that  showed  us  our  guilt, 
and  did  not  give  us  effectual  relief;  he  took  it  out  of 
the  way,  'nailing  it  to  his  cross; — which  was  but  a 

1  Rom.  vii.  4,  5,  6." 


BY   DR.    WATTS.  291 

shadow  of  things  to  come:'1  but  our  Lord  Jesus 
has  removed  the  shadow.  The  believer,  by  his 
communion  with  Christ,  is  dead  to  the  ceremonies 
of  God's  own  invention,  and  by  the  death  of  Christ 
he  is  released  from  all  that  bondage ;  he  will  not, 
therefore,  make  yokes  of  his  own  to  cast  upon  his  own 
neck,  nor  will  he  impose  new  yokes  upon  the  necks 
of  his  brethren.  The  bondage  and  yokes  are  all 
broken,  and  the  chains  and  slavery  are  all  abolished 
by  the  death  of  Christ.  He  stands  fast  ?  in  the  li- 
berty wherewith'  the  death  of  Christ '  has  made  him 
free.' 

Thus  have  I  shown  you  very  briefly  in  what 
sense  a  believer  is  crucified  together  with  Christ; 
he  is  dead  to  the  world,  he  is  dead  to  sin,  he  is 
dead  to  the  law,  he  is  dead  to  all  the  yokes  of 
bondage  and  ceremonious  worship ;  and  all  this  in 
and  by  a  dying  Saviour,  his  union  to  him,  and 
communion  with  him. 

II.  The  second  proposition  that  I  mentioned  is 
this ;  the  believer  lives  a  very  different  life  from 
what  he  did  before  faith  :  '  I  am  crucified  with 
Christ,  nevertheless  I  live.' 

Hence  it  plainly  appears,  that  it  is  not  the  same 
sort  of  life  he  lived  before,  for  a  death  is  passed 
upon  that ;  he  has  lost  a  sort  of  life,  but  he  has 
not  lost  all  manner  of  life,  for  he  lives  still.  To 
show  what  difference  there  is  betwixt  the  life  of  a 
Christian  before  and  after  his  faith  or  interest  in 
Christ,  I  shall  do  little  more  than  go  over  the  same 
heads  again  which  you  have  already  heard ;  I  shall 
only  apply  them  in  a  positive. way  to  the  life  of  a 
Christian,  as  before  I  snowed  you  wherein  a  Chris- 
tian  has  parted  with  them,  and  is  dead  to  them. 
1  Col.  ii.  14,  &c. 

u  2 


292    THE    BELIEVER    CRUCIFIED    WITH    CHRIST. 

1.  The  believer  before  lived  a  life  of  the  world, 
exercised  on  visible  things,  but  now  he  lives  upon 
things  spiritual  and  invisible  ;  for  he  is  dead  to  the 
world  and  alive  to  heaven.  His  sorrows  now  are 
of  another  kind,  they  are  laid  out  upon  sin  ;  whereas 
before  they  were  laid  out  only  upon  the  uneasi- 
ness and  disappointments  he  met  with  in  the  world. 
His  joys  before  arose  from  sensible  things  and  the 
comforts  of  this  life,  but  now  his  joy  abounds 
from  his  interest  in  Jesus  Christ,  beyond  all  the 
joys  he  once  experienced  in  the  pleasures  of  the 
world.  Before,  he  hoped  for  some  advancing  cir- 
cumstances in  the  world ;  but  now  he  hopes  for 
advancement  in  heaven,  for  glory  amongst  the  an- 
gels, and  a  place  amongst  the  best  of  God's  crea- 
tion. His  desires  once  were,  "  Oh  that  I  might 
enjoy  the  satisfaction  and  delight,  the  pleasure  and 
advancement*  of  this  world!"  but  now,  his  soul 
being  mortified  to  them,  breathes  after  the  presence 
of  God,  longs  for  spiritual  entertainments,  and  has 
a  perpetual  tendency  towards  the  enjoyments  of 
heaven.  His  life  is  now  divine  and  heavenly ; 
whilst  he  uses  the  things  of  this  world,  he  despises 
them  and  lives  above  them.  Whilst  he  manages 
the  affairs  and  business  of  his  secular  calling,  and 
the  concerns  of  this'  present  state,  his  heart  is  at 
every  turn  putting  on  her  divine  wings  and  rising 
heavenward,  and  endeavouring  to  get  above  those 
very  affairs  which  now  and  then  his  thoughts  are 
too  much  entangled  with,  and  in  which  it  is  neces- 
sary that  they  should  be  sometimes  engaged  whilst 
he  is  in  this  world  ;  but  he  is  ever  afraid  that  they 
should  cleave  too  closely  to  him,  he  is  ever  afraid  of 
the  chain  and  bondage.  For  having  tasted  the  plea- 
sures of  a  divine  release,  he  would'not  willingly  be 


BY    DR.    WATTS.  293 

clogged  and  fettered  again.  He  uses  the  world 
therefore  with  the  utmost  caution,  lest  it  should 
ensnare  him,  and  draw  him  away  again  from  his 
highest  hope  and  his  best  beloved  joy. 

2.  Before,  the  believer's  life  was  a  life  of  sin,  in 
common  with  the  rest  of  mankind,  the  children  of 
sinful  Adam ;  but  now  it  is  a  life  of  holiness,  for 
he  is  dead  to  sin  and  alive  to  God.  This,  in  the 
sixth  chapter  of  his  epistle  to  the  Romans,  the 
apostle  makes  appear  at  large ;  he  says,  that  we 
are  not  only  crucified  with  Christ,  i)ut  we  are  risen 
with  him  too ;  and  as  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  being 
once  dead  and  risen  again  by  the  power  of  God, 
lives  to  God  for  ever,  so  we  being  dead  to  sin,  must 
henceforth  and  for  ever  live  to  that  God  who  hath 
raised  Jesus  from  the  dead :  before,  we  were  dead 
in  trespasses  and  sins,  but  now  '  you  who  were 
once  dead  hath  he  quickened,'  that  you  should  no 
more  be  the  children  of  disobedience,  no  more 
serve  '  the  lusts  of  the  flesh  and  of  the  mind/  and 
walk  like  the  children  of  the  world,  as  others  do ; 
but  as  the  children  of  life,  as  the  children  of  grace, 
as  heirs  of  everlasting  glory  in  that  heaven,  where 
nothing  shall  enter  that  denies. 

'  The  lust  of  the  flesh,  the  lust  of  the  eye,  and 
the  pride  of  life,'  were  the  springs  and  principles 
of  his  motions  and  actions  before ;  but  now  the  love 
of  God  is  a  powerful  and  divine  principle.  Then 
his  meat  and  drink  was  to  fulfil  some  sinful  desire ; 
now  to  do  the  will  of  his  Father  which  is  in  heaven. 
Before,  he  had  much  rather  sin  than  suffer;  now 
he  had  much  rather  suffer  than  sin.  Hearing, 
reading,  conversing  of  vanity,  and  the  scandals  and 
reproaches  that  were  cast  upon  Christians,  might 
be  once  his  pleasure,  whilst  the  things  of  God  were 
his  aversion,  and  devotion  was  accounted  by  him 


294    THE    BELIEVER    CRUCIFIED    WITH    CHRIST. 

dull  business,  and  a  tiresome  hour ;  but,  "  Now/ 
says  he,  *.  *  I  will  go  unto  the  altar  of  God,  unto 
God*  my  exceeding  joy.'1  Religion  is  now  my 
delight,  for  that  world  where  God  is  for  ever  wor- 
shipped is  my  highest  hope  and  my  everlasting 
prospect." 

3.  The  believer's  life  before  was  influenced  by  the 
law  or  covenant  of  works,  but  now  it  is  influenced 
by  the  gospel  or  covenant  of  grace ;  and  there  is  a 
vast  difference  between  his  present  and  former 
principles.  The  spring  of  actions  and  duties  arose 
formerly  from  the  threatenings  of  the  law,  but  now 
they  arise  from  the  promises,  from  the  hopes,  from 
the  comforts  of  the  gospel.  The  expectation  of 
man,  in  a  carnal  state,  is  the  expectation  of  eternal 
happiness,  arising  from  the  covenant  of  works,  from 
his  own  righteousness;  but  now  from  the  righteous- 
ness of  the  Son  of  God,  and  from  the  free  and 
abounding  promises  of  the  covenant  of  grace.  He 
is  not  now  urged  to  duty  by  the  terrors  of  the  law, 
so  much  as  by  the  sweet  allurements  of  the  gospel ; 
therefore  in  that  text  which  I  have  just  cited,  this 
sense  is  very  evident,  that  now  being  dead  to  the 
law,  *  we  should  serve  God  in  newness  of  spirit, 
and  not  in  the  oldness  of  the  letter  ;'9  not  from  the 
hurries  and  vexation  of  conscience,  that  come  upon 
it  from  the  commanding  and  threatening  law  of 
God,  as  a  covenant  of  works,  but  by  the  sweeter 
and  kinder  motives  of  the  gospel  of  the  grace  of 
God,  '  that,  bringing  salvation,  hath  appeared  to 
all  men ;  teaching  us,  that  denying  ungodliness 
and  worldly  lusts,  we  should  live  soberly,  righte- 
ously, and  godly  in  this  present* world  ;'  and  behold 
now  one  of  the  new  principles  of  it,  '  looking  for 

1  Psalm  xliii.  4.  9  Rom.  vii.  6. 


BY   DR.   WATTS.  295 

that  blessed  hope,  and  the  glorious  appearing  of 
the  great  God,  and  our  Saviour  Jesus  Christ.'1 

What  manner  of  person  should  I  be  then,  '  in 
all  holy  conversation  and  godliness/  who  look  for 
a  dissolving  earth  and  heavens,  and  a  returning 
Saviour  to  take  me  to  dwell  for  ever  with  him 
My  Lord  Jesus  Christ  has  died  for  me,  therefore 
I  must  live  to  him.  Once  I  expected  strength  from 
the  commands  and  threatenings  of  the  law,  as  well 
as  righteousness  from  my  performance  of  it ;  but 
now  I  find  it  is  in  vain  to  expect  righteousness 
or  strength  there;  and  I  have  another  righte- 
ousness, and  I  have  a  better  strength,  for  'the 
Lord  Jehovah  is  my  strength,  and  my  righteous- 
ness.' How  many  are  there,  when  first  awakened, 
that  run  from  one  preacher  to  another,  to  hear 
sermons  of  mere  duty  and  terror,  expecting  that 
these  should  lash  their  consciences  into  holiness, 
and  that  the  thunders  of  the  threatening  law 
should  strike  their  hearts  and  melt  them  !  but 
they  wander  from  place  to  place  in  vain.  They 
hear  the  law,  and  it  terrifies,  they  hear  the  duty 
of  it,  and  it  awakens  them.  It  shows  them  their 
guilt,  for  '  by  the  law  is  the  knowledge  of  sin ;' 
but  they  are  still  the  same  persons,  dead  in  sin, 
still  bound  in  the  chains  of  corrupt  nature.  The 
grace  of  the  gospel  alone  can  soften  the  heart,  can 
break  these  bonds,  can  release  from  the  fetters  of 
sin,  and  make  of  a  stubborn,  and  unwilling,  and 
disobedient  wretch,  a  cheerful,  and  joyful,  and  obe- 
dient Christian.  They  come  to  the  blood  of  Christ, 
and  they  find  softening  virtue  for  their  hearts,  and 
'  the  love  of  Christ  constrains  them,'  and  they  can- 

•  Titus,  ii.  11, 12,  13. 


296     THE  BELIEVER  CRUCIFIED  WITH  CHRIST. 

not  help  living  to  him,  because  they  hope  for  eter- 
nal life  from  him.  They  put  all  their  immortal  con- 
cerns into  the  hands  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  they  have 
put  their  hard  hearts  there  too,  that  they  may  be 
softened.  They  have  put  also  their  stubborn  and 
disobedient  wills  there,  that  they  may  be  dissolved. 
They  have  put  their  guilty  and  sinful  souls  there, 
that  they  may  be  justified  by  the  righteousness  of 
another,  that  they  may  be  strong  in  the  grace  of 
another,  that  they  may  be  renewed  by  the  regene- 
rating Spirit  of  Jesus  Christ.  They  are  come  into 
that  faith  that  •  worketh  by  love,'  which  is  the  only 
thing  that  avails  in  the  gospel. 

Faith  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  having  given 
up  the  soul  to  him,  believes  that  Jesus  receives  it. 
Hence  there  arises  a  divine  light  from  this  hope, 
which  enables  the  soul  cheerfully  to  fulfil  all  the 
hard  duties  of  a  Christian  life.  The  believer  has 
the  spirit  of  a  slave  no  longer,  but  the  spirit  of  a 
son  by  adoption;  and  he  finds,  that  the  sweet  doc- 
trines of  the  grace  and  promises  of  the  gospel  have 
continually  more  influence  upon  him,  than  all  the 
curses  and  terrors  of  the  law,  and  all  the  flashes 
and  fire  of  the  word  of  hell  ever  had  before. 

4.  A  believer  before  lived  in  the  forms  and  out- 
ward observances  of  external  religion.  He  called 
this  religion,  and  built  his  hopes  upon  it;  but  now 
his  devotion  is  more  inward  and  spiritual.  Not 
but  he  always  maintains  these  forms  and  these  ob- 
servances, which  the  light  of  nature,  which  the 
word  of  God,  which  the  particular  institutions  of 
the  gospel,  teach  and  require  of  him  ;  but  it  is  the 
inward  part  of  religion  that  his  soul  most  aims  at, 
and  his  eye  is  most  watchful  over.  A  carnal  man 
may  take  up  with  forms,  and  thereby  satisfy  natu- 


BY    DR.    WATTS.  297 

ral  conscience ;  so  the  Jews  did  under  a  spirit  of 
bondage,  and  the  Jewish  Christians  were  ready  to 
run  into  it.  They  had  much  ado  to  be  brought  off 
from  those  ways  of  living.  Carnal  Christians  also, 
loose  professors,  that  think  going  to  church,  reading 
„a  chapter,  and  saying  their  prayers  will  bring  them 
to  heaven,  all  live  this  sort  of  life.  But  the  design 
of  a  Christian  is  to  see  God,  and  to  be  with  Jesus 
Christ  in  all  his  worship.  He  is  not  easy  unless  he 
can  find  God  in  ordinances.  He  is  not  satisfied  with 
the  shell  and  empty  shadow,  unless  he  can  have 
the  substance  too,  the  pearl  of  great  price  that  his 
soul  looks  after. 

It  is  with  God  that  he  converses  in  prayer,  and 
thinks  a  few  minutes  upon  his  knees  in  prayer 
nothing  if  he  cannot  get  near  to  his  God  there, 
if  he  does  not  feel  his  soul  to  have  inward  striv- 
ings to  come  near  to  his  God.  The  presence  or 
absence  of  God  in  worship  are  things  that  he 
concerns  himself  about  now;  whereas  heretofore, 
if  he  did  but  attend  to  the  external  forms  of  wor- 
ship, he  did  not  understand  much  the  meaning  of 
a  present  or  absent  God  in  them. 

These,  then,  are  some  of  the  differences  betwixt 
the  life  of  a  Christian  before  faith,  and  his  life 
after  faith.  Before,  it.  was  a  life  of  sense,  exercised 
on  sensible  things,  but  now  he  lives  upon  things 
spiritual  and  invisible.  Before,  it  was  a  life  of  sin, 
now  it  is  a  life  of  holiness.  Before,  it  was  a  life  in- 
fluenced by  the  law  and  covenant  of  works,  now  by 
the  principles  of  the  covenant  of  grace.  Before,  he 
counted  forms  and  outward  observances,  religion, 
and  sufficient  to  salvation;  but  now  he  looks  at 
inward  and  spiritual  things. 


298      THE  BELIEVER  CRUCIFIED  WITH  CHRIST. 

Four  words  of  use  shall  conclude  this  discourse. 

1 .  Let  every  soul  in  this  assembly  know,  then, 
that  if  they  do  not  live  a  very  different  life  from 
that  which  they  brought  into  the  world  with 
them,  they  are  not  Christians.  For  by  nature 
we  live  a  life  of  the  world,  we  live  ^upon  thi| 
world,  we  live  to  sin  arid  vanity;  by  nature  we 
derive  our  righteousness  and  our  strength  from 
the  law,  at  least  we  attempt  it,  though  religion 
is  always  insufficient  and  ineffectual,  when  we 
make  it  consist  too  much  in  outward  forms  and 
external  observances.  This  is  the  natural  life  of 
man ;  for  the  gospel  is  not  born  with  us,  the  gos- 
pel comes  by  the  teaching  of  the  word,  urider  the 
influence  of  the  blessed  Spirit.  The  gospel  comes 
into  our  hearts  this  way,  and  moulds,  and  changes, 
and  renews  our  nature,  and  gives  us  new  princi- 
ples, and  brings  us  into  a  new  world.  '  Except 
a  man  be  born  again/  says  Christ  to  Nicodemus, 
'  he  cannot  see  the  kingdom  of  God.' '  You  can- 
not enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God,  you  cannot 
come  into  a  state  of  grace  in  this  world,  nor  into  a 
state  of  glory  in  the  world  to  come,  unless  there  is 
such  a  change  passed  upon  you  as  I  have  now  de- 
scribed. Let  this  then  be  matter  of  your  serious 
examination :  "  Am  I  such  a  creature  as  I  was 
when  I  came  into  this  world?  has  any  great 
change  passed  upon  me  ?  are  my  principles  of  ac- 
tion new  ?  are  my  passions  of  hope,  fear,  joy,  and 
desire  new,  or  are  they  the  same  that  ever  they 
were  ?"  'If  any  man  be  in  Christ  he  is  a  new  crea- 
ture :  old  things  are  passed  away,  behold,  all  things 
are  become  new.'  * 

1  John,  iii.  3.  *  2  Cor.  v.  17. 


lit     DR.    WATTS.  299 

?.  What  a  shame  is  it  that  those  who  profess  a 
life  so  excellent  and  so  different  from  the  world, 
should  act  and  live  as  though  they  belonged  unto 
it,  as  though  they  were  one  with  it!  What  a 
shame  is  it  that  they  should  be  conformed  to  it  in 
every  thing,  and  be  uneasy  if  they  cannot  attain 
that  conformity !  They  know  not  how  to  cross 
the  way  of  the  world,  they  have  not  courage  to 
oppose  the  world,  and  they  are  content  to  swim 
with  the  stream.  But  this  conduct  is  contrary  to 
the  very  principles  of  Christianity,  and  where  it  is 
much  indulged,  it  will  darken,  obscure,  and  deface 
all  the  glory  of  their  profession;  and  they  had 
need  take  great  care  that  their  conversion  be  right 
and  true,  for  otherwise  they  will  have  much  reason 
to  fear  that  they  were  mistaken  at  first  in  their 
hopes,  and  that  they  are  still  the  children  of  wrath. 
I  say,  where  too  much  of  the  principles  of  this  old 
life,  which  was  cut  off,  grows  strong  again,  they  had 
need  take  care  that  their  conversion  be  real,  lest  at 
last  they  be  mistaken  in  things  of  infinite  im- 
portance. The  divine  life  must  sometimes  show 
itself,  it  cannot  be  always  hid.  Paul  *  preached 
the  faith  that  once  he  destroyed,'  and  he  destroyed 
the  corruptions  that  once  he  promoted.  Behold 
the  man  is  a  new  creature ;  behold  Saul  the  perse- 
cutor prayeth.  Let  it  be  said  concerning  every 
one  of  us,  "  Behold,  he  is  a  new  creature !"  that 
the  world  may  observe  that  we  are  born  of  God. 

3.  If  this  be  as  I  have  described,  then  every  true 
Christian  is  nearer  to  heaven  than  we  generally 
imagine.  He  is  dead  with  Christ,  he  is  risen 
again,  and  is  alive  with  Christ.  And  when  he  en- 
ters into  heaven,  he  does  but  receive  the  perfection 
of  that  life   which   is  here  begun.      He   is  risen 


300      THE  BELIEVER  CRUCIFIED  WITH  CHRIST. 

already  in  his  representative,  and  with  his  repre- 
sentative and  head  he  is  entered  into  heaven. 
1  God,  who  is  rich  in  mercy,  for  his  great  love 
wherewith  he  loved  us,  even  when  we  were  dead  in 
sins,  hath  quickened  us  together  with  Christ,  (by 
grace  ye  are  saved,)  and  hath  raised  us  up  together, 
and  made  us  sit  together  in  heavenly  places  in 
Christ  Jesus.  That  in  the  ages  to  come  he  might 
show  the  exceeding  riches  of  his  grace,  in  his  kind- 
ness towards  us  through  Christ  Jesus/ '  Under 
this  consideration  it  is,  that  we  being  dead  to  our 
former  life  and  the  life  of  this  world,  being  brought 
into  a  new  and  divine  life,  are,  as  the  apostle  tells 
us,  '  come  unto  mount  Sion,  and  unto  the  city  of 
the  living  God,  the  heavenly  Jerusalem,  and  to  an 
innumerable  company  of  angels,  to  the  general  as- 
sembly and  church  of  the  first-born  which  are  writ- 
ten in  heaven,  and  to  God  the  Judge  of  all,  and 
to  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect.'2  These 
are  the  words  I  chiefly  aim  at,  *  the  spirits  of  just 
men  made  perfect.'  Ye  belong  to  the  same  society 
that  the  spirits  of  just  men  belong  to,  though  ye 
are  not  released  from  the  bonds  of  the  flesh.  Ye 
are  one  with  them,  in  Jesus  Christ  your  head.  Ye 
belong  to  the  same  state,  ye  are  made  denizens  of 
the  same  heavenly  city,  though  ye  are  not  yet  en- 
tered within  the  gates  of  it,  but  abide  your  Father's 
pleasure  in  a  foreign  country.  Ye  belong  to  the 
state  above,  ye  are  one  with  the  spirits  of  the  glo- 
rified just;  and  the  life  ye  will  live  in  glory,  is  but 
the  same  kind  of  life  ye  live  in  grace,  though  in  a 
far  more  exalted  degree.  Ye  are  changed  from 
death  to  life,  from  sin  to  grace ;  but  the  step  ye 

1  Eph.  ii.  4,  5,  6,  7.  Heb.  xii.  22,  23. 


BY    DR.    WATTS.  301 

will  make  from  grace  to  glory  will  not  be  a  change, 
but  an  advancement  in  the  same  life. 

4.  Lastly;  I  would  say  this  also,  that  an  at- 
tendance on  the  Lord's  supper  is  the  proper  season 
to  awaken  our  meditations  to  communion  with  a 
dying  Saviour.  We  eat  the  bread  and  drink  the 
wine,  and  thereby  represent  our  union  with  a  cru- 
cified and  dying  Christ.  The  bread  and  wine 
which  are  incorporated  with  our  natural  bodies, 
made  one  with  us  by  our  eating,  represent  the 
union  of  our  spirits  to  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and 
our  becoming  one  with  him.  Now  if  at  these  sea- 
sons, and  at  these  ordinances,  we  are  represented 
as  dying  together  with  Christ,  let  us  remember 
what  manner  of  persons  we  ought  to  be,  what  sort 
of  profession  we  make.  We  sit  there  and  tell  the 
world,  we  are  dead  to  sin,  we  are  dead  to  things 
sensible,  we  are  dead  to  the  law,  we  are  dead  to 
ceremonies  and  carnal  ordinances,  we  are  dead  to 
every  thing  which  before  we  were  alive  unto ;  we 
make  a  profession  of  this  before  God,  angels,  and 
men.  O  may  dur  characters  and  our  conversation 
correspond  with  such  a  communion  with  a  living 
and  dying  Saviour! 


SERMON   XIV. 

OUR  LORD'S  DESCENT  INTO  HELL. 
BY  BISHOP  HORSLEY. 


Samuel  Horsley  was  bom  in  1733.    He  was  made  Bishop  of  St.  David's  i» 
1788 ;  was  translated  to  St.  Asaph  in  1802 ;  and  died  in  1806.] 


SERMON    XIV. 


1  Peter,  hi.  18—20. 

Being  put  to  death  in  the  flesh,  but  quickened  by  the 
Spirit ;  by  which  also  he  went  and  preached  unto 
the  spirits  in  prison,  which  sometimes  were  dis- 
obedient, when  once  the  long-suffering  of  God  wait- 
ed in  the  days  of  Noah. 

In  the  first  rudiments  of  our  Christian  faith,  com- 
prised in  the  apostles'  creed,  which  we  are  made  to 
get  by  heart  in  our  earliest  infancy,  we  are  taught 
to  believe  thaj;."  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  descended 
into  hell;"  and  this  belief  is  solemnly  professed  by 
every  member  of  the  congregation,  when  that  creed 
is  repeated  in  the  daily  service  of  the  church. 
And  it  seemed  of  so  much  importance  that  it 
should  be  distinctly  acknowledged  by  the  Church 
of  England  when  we  separated  from  the  Roman 
communion,  that  our  reformers  thought  proper  to 
make  it  by  itself  the  subject  of  one  of  the  articles 
of  religion.  They  were  aware,  that  upon  the  fact 
of  our  Lord's  descent  into  hell  the  church  of  Rome 
pretended  to  build  her  doctrine  of  purgatory,  which 
they  justly  esteemed  one  of  her  worst  corruptions ; 

x 


306  OUR   LORD'S    DESCENT   INTO    HELL. 

but,  apprehensive  that  the  zeal  of  reformation 
might  in  this,  as  in  some  other  instances,  carry- 
men  too  far,  and  induce  them  to  reject  a  most  im- 
portant truth,  on  which  a  dangerous  error  had  been 
once  ingrafted,  to  prevent  this  intemperance  of  re- 
form, they  assert,  in  the  third  article  of  the  thirty- 
nine,  "  That  as  Christ  died  for  us  and  was  buried, 
so  it  is  to  be  believed  that  he  went  down. into  hell." 
The  terms  in  which  they  state  the  proposition, 
imply  that  Christ's  going  down  into  hell  is  a  matter 
of  no  less  importance  to  be  believed,  than  that  he 
died  upon  the  cross  for  men — is  no  less  a  plain 
matter  of  fact  in  the  history  of  our  Lord's  life  and 
death,  than  the  burial  of  his  dead  body.  It  should 
seem,  that  what  is  thus  taught  among  the  first 
things  which  children  learn,  should  be  among  the 
plainest, — that  what  is  thus  laid  down  as  a  matter 
of  the  same  necessity  to  be  believed  as  our  Lord's 
passion  and  atonement,  should  be  among  the  least 
disputed, — that  what  every  Christian  is  required  to 
acknowledge  as  his  own  belief,  in  the  daily  assem- 
blies of  the  faithful,  should  little  need  either  ex- 
planation or  proof  to  any  that  have  been  instructed 
in  the  very  first  principles  only  of  the  doctrine  of 
Christ.  But  so  it  is,  that  what  the  sagacity  of  our 
reformers  foresaw,  the  precaution  which  they  used 
has  not  prevented.  The  truth  itself  has  been 
brought  into  discredit  by  the  errors  with  which  it 
has  been  adulterated ;  and  such  has  been  the  in.- 
dustry  of  modern  refinement,  and  unfortunately  so 
great"*has  been  its  success,  that  doubts  have  been 
raised  about  the  sense  of  this  plain  article  of  our 
creed  by  some,  and  by  others,  about  the  truth  and 
authenticity  of  it.  It  will,  therefore,  be  no  unpro- 
fitable undertaking  to  show  that  the  assertion  in 


BY    BISHOP   HORSLEY.  307 

the  apostles'  creed,  that  "  our  Lord  descended  into 
hell,"  is  to  be  taken  as  a  plain  matter  of  fact  in  the 
literal  meaning  of  the  words ;  to  show  what  proof 
of  this  fact  we  have  in  holy  writ ;  and,  lastly,  to 
show  the  great  use  and  importance  of  the  fact  as  a 
point  of  Christian  doctrine. 

First,  then,  for  the  sense  of  the  proposition,  "  He 
descended  into  hell."  If  we  consider  the  words  as 
they  stand  in  the  creed  itself,  and  in  connexion 
with  what  immediately  precedes  and  follows  them* 
they  appear  evidently  to  contain  a  declaration  of 
something  which  our  Lord  performed — some  going 
of  our  Lord  to  a  place  called  "  hell,"  in  the  interval 
of  time  between  the  burial  of-his  dead  body  and  his 
rising  to  life  again  on  the  third  day  after  that  in- 
terment ;  for  thus  speaks  the  creed  of  Jesus  Christ : 
"  was  crucified,  dead,  and  buried  ;  he  descended 
into  hell;  the  third  day  he  rose  again  from  the 
dead."  It  is  evident  that  the  descending  into  hell 
is  spoken  of  as  an  action  of  our  Lord,  but  as  an 
action  performed  by  him*  after  he  was  dead  and 
buried,  and  before  he  rose  again.  In  the  body, 
our  dead  Lord,  more  than  any  other  dead  man, 
could  perform  no  action ;  for  the  very  notion 
of  death  is,  that  all  sensation  and  activity,  and 
power  of  motion  of  the  body,  is  in  that  state  of 
the  man  extinguished.  This,  therefore,  was  an  act 
of  that  part  of  the  man  which  continues  active 
after  death, — that  is,  of  the  soul  separated  by  death 
from  the  body, — as  the  interment  must  be  under- 
stood of  the  body  apart  from  the  soul.  The  dead 
body  could  no  more  go  into  hell  than  the  living 
soul  could  be  laid  in  the  grave.  Considering  the 
words,  therefore,  as  they  stand  in  the  creed,  as  the 
church  now  receives  it,  they  seem  as  little  capable 

x  2 


308        our  lord's  descent  into  hell. 

of  any  variety  of  meaning,  and  almost  as  little  to 
require  explanation,  as  the  word  "  buried."  That 
word  describes  not  more  plainly,  to  the  apprehen- 
sions of  all  men,  what  was  done  with  the  inani- 
mate body  of  our  crucified  Lord,  than  these  words 
declare  what  was  done  by  his  rational  soul  in  its 
intermediate  state.  The  only  question  that  can 
possibly  arise  to  a  plain  man's  understanding  is, 
where  or  what  the  place  may  be  which  is  here 
called  hell,  to  which  it  is  said  our  Lord  in  the  state 
of  death  descended. 

It  is  evident  that  this  must  be  some  place  below 
the  surface  of  the  earth ;  for  it  is  said  that  he  "  de- 
scended," that  is,  he  went  down  to  it.  Our  Lord's 
death  took  place  upon  the  surface  of  the  earth, 
where  the  human  race  inhabit;  that,  therefore,  and 
none  higher,  is  the  place  from  which  he  descend- 
ed :  of  consequence,  the  place  to  which  he  went 
by  descent  was  below  it ;  and  it  is  with  relation  to 
these  parts  below  the  surface  that  his*rising  to  life 
on  the  third  day  must  be  understood.  This  was 
only  a  return  from  the  nether  regions  to  the  realms 
of  life  an)!  day,  from  which  he  had  descended;  not 
his  ascension  into  heaven,  which  was  a  subsequent 
event,  and  makes  a  distinct  article  in      e  creed. 

But  although  the  hell  to  which  o v.r  Lord  de- 
scended was  indeed  below,  as  the  word  "  descent" 
implies,  it  is  by  no  means  to  be  understood  of  the 
place  of  torment.  This  is  a  point  which  requires 
elucidation,  to  prevent  a  mistake  into  which  the 
unlearned  easily  might  fall.  The  word  "  hell"  is  so 
often  applied  in  common  speech,  and  in  the  Eng- 
lish translation  of  the  NewTestament,  to  the  place 
of  torment,  that  the  genuine  meaning  of  the  word 
(in  which,  however,  it  is  used  in  many  passages  of 


BY    BISHOP   HORSLEY.  309 

the  English  Bible)  is  almost  forgotten;  and  the 
common  people  never  hear  of  hell  but  their 
thoughts  are  carried  to  that  dismal  place,  « where 
the  fallen  angels  are  kept  in  everlasting  chains  un- 
der darkness  unto  the  judgment  of  the  great  day.' 
But  the*  word,  in  its  natural  import,  signifies  only 
that  invisible  place  which  is  the  appointed  habita- 
tion of  departed  souls  in  the  interval  between 
death  and  the  general  resurrection.  That  such  a 
place  must  be,  is  indisputable;  for  when  man 
dieth,  his  soul  dieth  not,  but  returneth  unto  him 
that  gave  it,  to  be  disposed  of  at  his  will  and 
pleasure;  which  is  clearly  implied  in  that  ad- 
monition of  our  Saviour,  *  Fear  not  them  which 
kill  the  body,  but  cannot  kill  the  soul.'  But  the 
soul  existing  after  death,  and  separated  from  the 
body,  though  of  a  nature  immaterial,  must  be  in 
some  place :  for,  however  metaphysicians  may  talk 
of  place  as  one  of  the  adjuncts  of  body,  as  if  no- 
thing but  gross  sensible  body  could  be  limited  to  a 
place,  to  exist  without  relation  to  place  seems  to 
be  one  of  the  incommunicable  perfections  of  the 
Divine  Being;  and  it  is  hardly  to  be  conceived 
that  any  created  spirit,  of  however  high  an  order, 
can  be  without  locality,  or  without  such  determina- 
tion of  its  existence  at  any  given  time  to  some  cer- 
tain place,  that  it  shall  be  true  to  say  of  it,  "  Here 
it  is,  and  not  elsewhere."  That  such  at  least  is  the 
condition  of  the  human  soul,  were  it  seasonable  to 
go  into  so  abstruse  a  disquisition,  might  be  proved, 
I  think,  indisputably  from  holy  writ.  Assuming, 
therefore,  that  every  departed  soul  has  its  place  of 
residence,  it  would  be  reasonable  to  suppose,  if 
revelation  were  silent  on  the  subject,  that  a  common 
mansion  is  provided  for  them  all,  their  nature  be- 


310        our  lord's  descent  into  hell. 

ing  similar;  since  we  see  throughout  all  nature 
creatures  of  the  same  sort  placed  together  in  the 
same  element.  But  revelation  is  not  silent.  The 
sacred  writers  of  the  Old  Testament  speak  of  such 
a  common  mansion  in  the  inner  parts  of  the  earth  ; 
and  we  find  the  same  opinion  so  general  among  the 
heathen  writers  of  antiquity,  that  it  is  more  proba- 
ble that  it  had  its  rise  in  the  earliest  patriarchal 
revelations  than  in  the  imaginations  of  man,  or  in 
poetical  fiction.  The  notion  is  confirmed  by  the 
language  of  the  writers  of  the  New  Testament,  with 
this  additional  circumstance,  that  they  divide  this 
central  mansion  of  the  dead  into  two  distinct  re- 
gions, for  the  separate  lodging  of  the  souls  of  the 
righteous  and  the  reprobate.  In  this,  too,  they 
have  the  concurrence  of  the  earliest  heathen  ,poets, 
who  placed  the  good  and  the  bad  in  separate  divi- 
sions of  the  central  region.  The  name  which  the 
Hebrew  writers  gave  to  this  mansion  of  departed 
souls,  (without  regard  to  any  such  division,)  ex- 
presses only  that  it  is  a  place  unknown,  about 
which  all  are  curious  and  inquisitive.  The  writers 
of  the  New  Testament  adopted  the  name  which  the 
earliest  Greek  writers  had  given  it,  which  describes 
it  by  the  single  property  of  invisibility.  But  for 
the  place  of  torment  by  itself,  they  had  quite  ano- 
ther appellation.  The  English  word  I*  hell,"  in  its 
primary  and  natural  meaning,  signifies  nothing 
more  than  "  the  unseen  and  covered  place  ;"  and  is 
properly  used,  both  in  the  Old  and  the  New  Testa- 
ment, to  render*  the  Hebrew  word  in  the  one,  and 
the  Greek  word  in  the  other,  which  denote  the  in- 
visible mansion  of  disembodied  souls,  without  any 
reference  to  suffering.  But  being  used  also  in  the 
translation  of  the  New  Testament  for  that  other 


BY  BISHOP  HORSLEY.  311 

word  which  properly  denotes  the  place  of  torment, 
the  good  sense  of  the  word,  if  we  may  so  call  it,  is 
unfortunately  forgotten,  and  the  common  people 
know  of  no  other  hell  but  that  of  the  burning 
lake. 

This  certainly  was  not  the  hell  to  which  the  soul 
of  Christ  descended.  He  descended  to  hell  properly 
so  called, — to  the  invisible  mansion  of  departed 
spirits,  and  to  that  part  of  it  where  the  souls  of  the 
faithful,  when  they  are  delivered  from  the  burden 
of  the  flesh,  are  in  joy  and  felicity. 

That  he  should  go  to  this  place  was  a  necessary 
branch  of  the  general  scheme  and  project  of  re- 
demption, which  required  that  the  Divine  Word 
should  take  our  nature  upon  him,  and  fulfil  the  en- 
tire condition  of  humanity  in  every  period  and 
stage  of  man's  existence,  from  the  commencement 
of  life,  in  the  mother's  womb,  to  the  extinction  and 
the  renovation  of  it.  The  same  wonderful  scheme 
of  humiliation  which  required  that  the  Son  should 
be  conceived,  and  born,  and  put  to  death,  made  it 
equally  necessary  that  his  soul,  in  its  intermediate 
state,  should  be  gathered  to  the  souls  of  the  de- 
parted saints. 

That  the  invisible  place  of  their  residence  is  the 
hell  to  which  our  Lord  descended,  is  evident  from 
the  terms  of  his  own  promise  to  the  repentant  thief 
upon  the  cross :  '  Verily,  I  say  unto  thee,  to-day 
shalt  thou  be  with  me  in  paradise.*  Paradise  was 
certainly  some  place  where  our  Lord  was  to  be  on 
the  very  day  on  which  he  suffered,  and  where  the 
companion  of  his  sufferings  was  to  be  with  him. 
It  was  not  heaven ;  for  to  heaven  our  Lord  after 
his  death  ascended  not  till  after  his  resurrection,  as 
appears  from  his  own  words  to  Mary  Magdalen. 


312  OUR  lord's  descent  into  hell. 

He  was  not  therefore  in  heaven  on  the  day  of  the 
crucifixion;  and  where  he  was  not,  the  thief  could 
not  be  with  him.  It  was  no  place  of  torment ;  for 
to  any  such  place  the  name  of  paradise  never  was 
applied.  It  could  be  no  other  than  that  region.of 
repose  and  rest  where  the  souls  of  the  righteous 
abide  in  joyful  hope  of  the  consummation  of  their 
bliss.  And  upon  this  single  text  we  might  safely 
rest  the  proof  of  this  article  of  our  creed  in  the  sense 
in  which  we  explain  it, — a  sense  so  plain  and  pro- 
minent, in  the  bare  words,  to  every  one  who  is 
not  misled  by  the  popular  misapplication  of  the 
word  "  hell,"  that  it  never  would  have  been  set 
aside  to  make  room  for  expositions  of  more  refine- 
ment, much  less  would  the  authenticity  of  the  ar- 
ticle ever  even  have  been  questioned,  but  for  the 
countenance  which  it  was  supposed  to  give  to  the 
doctrine  of  purgatory  as  taught  in  the  church  of 
Rome ;  with  which,  however,  it  has  not  even  a  re- 
mote connexion.  Time  will  not  permit  me  to  enter 
into  a  particular  examination  of  the  different  inter- 
pretations of  this  article  which  have  been  attempted 
by  those  who  have  not  gone  the  length  of  proposing 
to  expunge  it  from  the  creed,  because  they  were 
well  aware,  that  although  it  is  not  to  be  found  in 
any  copy  of  the  creed  now  extant,  of  an  earlier 
date  than  the  latter  end  of  the  fourth  century,  yet 
that  Christ,  in  some  sense  or  other,  descended  into 
hell  was  the  unanimous  belief  of  the  Christian 
church  from  the  earliest  ages.  I  will  offer  only 
this  general  observation, — that  the  interpretation 
which  I  have  given  is  the  only  literal  interpreta- 
tion which  the  words  will  bear,  unless  we  would 
admit  the  extravagant  assertion,  as  to  me  it  seems, 
of  the  venerable  Calvin,  that  our  blessed  Lord  ac- 


BY    BISHOP   HORSLEY.  313 

tually  went  down  to  the  place  of  torment,  and 
there  sustained  (horrible  to  think  or  mention  !)  the 
pains  of  a  reprobate  soul  in  punishment;  a  notion 
evidently  confuted  by  our  Lord's  own  description 
of  the  place,  where  the  companion  of  his  sufferings 
on  the  cross  was  to  be  with  him  on  the  very  day  of 
the  crucifixion. 

This  sense  being  thus  confuted,  I  say  the  per- 
sonal descent  of  our  Lord  to  that  region  where  the 
souls  of  the  righteous  rest  in  hope,  is  the  only 
literal  interpretation  which  the  words  of  the  ar- 
ticle will  bear,  and  that  any  figurative  inter- 
pretation of  the  words  of  a  creed  or  formulary 
of  faith  are  inadmissible;  for,  in  such  a  com- 
position, intended  to  convey  the  knowledge  of 
the  most  important  truths  to  the  most  ordinary  un- 
derstandings, the  ornamental  figures  of  rhetoric  or 
poetry,  would  be  no  less  out  of  place  than  in  the 
opinion  of  a  judge  upon  a  question  of  law,  or  in  a 
mathematical  demonstration.  They  could  have  no 
other  effect  than  to  introduce  doubt,  where  every 
thing  ought  to  be  precise  and  unequivocal.  With- 
out entering,  therefore,  into  a  particular  confuta- 
tion of  the  figurative  interpretations  that  have  been 
offered  of  this  article  of  the  creed,  I  shall  proceed 
at  once  to  show  what  proof  we  find  in  Scripture  of 
the  fact  averred,  according  to  the  literal  meaning 
of  the  words,  that  "  Christ  descended  into  hell." 

This  proof  rests,  I  think,  principally  upon  three 
texts  of  Scripture,  in  addition  to  that  which  I  have 
already  mentioned,  as  affording  by  itself  ample  con- 
firmation of  the  truth  of  the  proposition,  namely, 
our  Lord's  promise  to  the  penitent  thief  upon  the 
cross.  But  there  are  three  other  texts  which  con- 
spire with  this,  to  put  the  matter  out  of  doubt. 


314        our  lord's  descent  into  hell. 

The  first  is  that  text  of  the  Psalmist  which  was 
alleged  by  St.  Peter,  in  his  first  sermon  on  the  clay 
of  Pentecost,  as  a  prophecy  concerning  Christ, 
verified  in  his  resurrection  from  the  dead  :  '  Thou 
wilt  not  leave  my  soul  in  hell,  neither  wilt  thou 
suffer  thy  Holy  One  to  see  corruption.'  The  apos- 
tle having  recited  these  words  of  the  Psalmist,  says 
they  were  not  spoken  by  David  of  himself,  but  that 
David,  being  a  prophet,  spake  of  the  resurrection 
of  Christ, — that  his  soul  was  not  left  in  hell,  nei- 
ther did  his  flesh  see  corruption.  From  this  text, 
if  there  were  no  other,  the  article,  in  the  sense  in 
which  we  have  explained  it,  is  clearly  and  infal- 
libly deduced  ;  for  if  the  soul  of  Christ  were  not 
left  in  hell  at  his  resurrection,  then  it  was  in  hell 
before  his  resurrection.  But  it  was  not  there  either 
before  his  death  or  after  his  resurrection,  for  that 
never  was  imagined :  therefore  it  descended  into 
hell  after  his  death,  and  before  his  resurrection : 
for  as  his  flesh,  by  virtue  of  the  divine  promise, 
saw  no  corruption,  although  it  was  in  the  grave, 
the  place  of  corruption,  where  it  remained  until  his 
resurrection ;  so  his  soul,  which  by  virtue  of  the 
like  promise  was  not  left  in  hell,  was  in  that  hell 
where  it  was  not  left,  until  the  time  came  for  its 
reunion  to  the  body,  for  the  accomplishment  of  the 
resurrection.  Hence  it  is  so  clearly  evinced  that 
the  soul  of  Christ  was  in  the  place  called  hell, 
"  that  none  but  an  infidel,"  saith  St.  Augustine, 
"  can  deny  it." 

Another  text,  which  carries  us  to  the  same  con- 
clusion, is  in  the  fourth  chapter  of  St.  Paul's  epistle 
to  the  Ephesians,  in  the  apostle's  reasoning  upon  a 
passage  of  the  sixty-eighth  Psalm,  which  he  applies 
as  prophetic  of  the  various  gifts  which  Christ,  after 


BY    BISHOP   HORSLEY-  315 

nis  ascension,  conferred  upon  the  members  of  his 
church.  The  Psalmist  speaks  to  this  effect,  as  he 
is  cited  by  the  apostle :  '  When  he  ascended  up  on 
high,  he  led  captivity  captive,  and  gave  gifts  unto 
men  ? '  *  Now  that  he  ascended/  says  the  apostle, 
arguing  upon  the  Psalmists  words,  '  what  is  it  but 
that  he  descended  first  into  the  lower  parts  of  the 
earth  ?'  intimating,  that  the  ascending  up  on  high, 
of  which  the  Psalmist  speaks,  is  to  be  understood 
in  reference  to  a  previous  descent  into  the  lowest 
regions  as  its  opposite. 

Some,  however,  have  imagined,  that  the  descent 
into  hell  is  not  to  be  deduced  from  this  text  with 
the  same  certainty  as  from  the  former.  They  ima- 
gine something  of  ambiguity  in  the  phrase  of 
'  the  lower  parts  of  the  earth.'  Rightly  referring 
the  ascending  up  on  high  to  our  Lord's  ascension 
into  heaven,  they  think  that  *  the  lower  parts  of 
the  earth*  may  signify  the  earth  generally,  as  lower 
than  the  heavens,  and  even  nothing  lower  than  the 
very  surface  of  it.  And  it  must  be  confessed  that 
our  Lord  speaks  of  himself  before  his  death,  while 
he  was  living  upon  the  surface  of  the  earth,  as 
having  come  down  to  it  from  heaven.  Neverthe- 
less, '  the  lower  parts  of  the  earth,'  in  the  Greek 
language,  in  which  the  apostle  writes,  is  a  peri- 
phrasis for  "  hell,"  in  the  proper  sense  of  that 
word,  as  the  invisible  mansion  of  departed  spi- 
rits. The  phrase  is  so  perfectly  equivalent  to 
the  word  "  hell,"  that  we  find  it  used  instead  of 
that  word  in  some  of  the  Greek  copies  of  the  creed, 
in  this  very  article,  where  the  mention  of  our 
Lord's  coming  down  from  heaven  to  dwell  upon 
the  earth  would  be  quite  out  of  place,  after  the 
mention  of  the  sev  iral  events  of  his  birth,  cruci- 


316        our  lord's  descent  into  hell. 

fixion,  death,  and  burial,  in  their  natural  order  and 
succession.  But,  indeed,  this  phrase  of  the  '  lower 
parts  of  the  earth,'  is  in  the  Greek  language  so 
much  a  name  for  the  central  parts  of  the  globe,  as 
distinguished  from  the  surface  or  the  outside  on 
which  we  live,  that  had  the  apostle  intended  by 
this  phrase  to  denote  the  inhabited  surface  of  the 
earth,  as  lower  than  the  heavens,  we  may  confi- 
dently say,  his  Greek  converts  at  Ephesus  would 
not  easily  have  guessed  his  meaning.  This  text, 
therefore,  when  the  Greek  words  are  taken  in 
the  only  sense  in  which  any  writer  in  that  lan- 
guage would  have  used,  or  any  one  who  spoke 
the  language  would  have  understood  them,  ex- 
pressly affirms  a  descent  of  Christ's  spirit  into 
hell. 

A  third  scripture  which  goes  to  the  proof  of  the 
same  fact,  is  that  very  remarkable  passage  in  the 
third  chapter  of  St.  Peter's  first  Epistle,  which  I 
have  chosen  for  my  text.  I  might  mention,  as  a 
fourth,  another  passage  in  the  following  chapter  of 
the  same  epistle,  which  alludes  to  the  same  event ; 
but  not,  I  think,  with  equal  certainty ;  for  the 
sense  of  that  following  passage  is  indeed  dependent 
upon  this,  insomuch  that  any  figurative  interpreta- 
tion which  would  invalidate  the  argument  we  shall 
deduce  from  this  first  passage,  would,  in  an  equal 
degree,  affect  the  second ;  and  no  proof  can  be 
drawn  from  that  of  Christ's  descent  into  hell,  if 
none  can  be  previously  found  in  the  words  of  my 
text. 

But  in  them,  taken  in  their  most  literal  and  ob- 
vious meaning,  we  find  not  only  a  distinct  assertion 
of  the  fact,  that  "  Christ  descended  into  hell,"  in 
his  disembodied  spirit ;  but  moreover,  a  declaration 


BY   BISHOP   HORSLEY.  317 

of  the  business  upon  which  he  went  thither,  or  in 
which  at  least  his  soul  was  employed  while  it  was 
there.  'Being  put  to  death  in  the  flesh,  but  quick- 
ened by  the  Spirit;  by  which  also  he  went  and 
preached  unto  the  spirits  in  prison,  which  some 
time  were  disobedient.'  The  interpretation  of  this 
whole  passage  turns  upon  the  expression,  'spirits 
in  prison ;'  the  sense  of  which  I  shall  first,  there- 
fore, endeavour  to  ascertain,  as  the  key  to  the  mean- 
ing of  the  whole.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  men- 
tion, that '  spirits'  here  can  signify  no  other  spirits 
than  the  souls  of  men ;  for  we  read  not  of  any 
preaching  of  Christ  to  any  other  race  of  beings 
than  mankind.  The  apostle's  assertion,  therefore, 
is  this,  that  Christ  went  and  preached  to  souls  of 
men  in  prison.  The  invisible  mansion  of  departed 
spirits,  though  certainly  not  a  place  of  penal  con- 
finement to  the  good,  is  nevertheless  in  some  re- 
spects a  prison.  It  is  a  place  of  seclusion  from  the 
external  world — a  place  of  unfinished  happiness, 
consisting  in  rest,  security,  and  hope,  more  than 
enjoyment.  It  is  a  place  which  the  souls  of  men 
never  would  have  entered,  had  not  sin  introduced 
death,  and  from  which  there  is  no  exit  by  any  na- 
tural means  for  those  who  once  have  entered.  The 
deliverance  of  the  saints  from  it  is  to  be  effected  by 
our  Lord's  power.  It  is  described  in  the  old  Latin 
language  as  a  place  enclosed  within  an  impassible 
fence ;  and  in  the  poetical  parts  of  Scripture  it  is 
represented  as  secured  by  gates  of  brass,  which  our 
Lord  is  to  batter  down,  and  barricadoed  with  huge 
massive  iron  bars,  which  he  is  to  cut  in  sunder. 
As  a  place  of  confinement,  therefore,  though  not  of 
punishment,  it  may  well  be  called  a  prison.  The 
original  word,  however,  in  this  text  of  the  apostle 


318        our  lord's  descent  into  hell. 

imports  not  of  necessity  so  much  as  this,  but  merely 
a  place  of  safe  keeping  ;  for  so  this  passage  might 
be  rendered  with  great  exactness.  •  He  went  and 
preached  to  the  spirits  in  safe  keeping.'  And  the 
invisible  mansion  of  departed  souls  is  to  the  righte- 
ous a  place  of  safe  keeping,  where  they  are  pre- 
served under  the  shadow  of  God's  right  hand,  as 
their  condition  sometimes  is  described  in  Scripture, 
till  the  season  shall  arrive  for  their  advancement  to 
their  future  glory;  as  the  souls  of  the  wicked, on 
the  other  hand,  are  reserved  in  the  other  division  of 
the  same  place,  unto  the  judgment  of  the  great 
day.  Now,  if  Christ  went  and  preached  to  souls  of 
men  thus  in  prison  or  in  safe  keeping,  surely  he 
went  to  the  prison  of  those  souls,  or  to  the  place  of 
their  custody ;  and  what  place  that  should  be  but 
the  hell  of  the  apostles'  creed,  to  which  our  Lord 
descended,  I  have  not  yet  met  with  the  critic  that 
could  explain.  So  clearly  does  this  text  affirm  the 
fact  of  Christ's  descent  into  hell. 

But  this  is  not  all.  It  agrees  with  the  apostles' 
creed  in  the  time  of  this  event,  that  it  was  in  the 
interval  between  our  Lord's  death  and  resurrection ; 
for  the  apostle  affirms,  that  it  was  in  his  spirit, 
that  is,  in  his  disembodied  soul,  that  Christ  went 
and  preached  to  those  souls  in  safe  custody. 
'  Being  put  to  death  in  the  flesh,  but  quickened 
by  the  Spirit.'  '  Quickened  by  the  Spirit.' — The 
Spirit  in  these  English  words,  seems  to  be  put, 
not  for  the  soul  of  Christ,  but  for  the  Divine  Spirit; 
and  the  sense  seems  to  be,  that  Christ,  after  he  was 
put  to  death,  was  raised  to  life  again  by  the  Holy 
Spirit.  But  this,  though  it  be  the  sense  of  the 
English  translation,  and  a  true  proposition,  is  cer- 
tainly not  the  sense  of  the  apostle's  words.    It  is 


BY   BISHOP  HORSLEY.  319 

of  great  importance  to  remark,  though  it  may  seem 
a  grammatical  nicety,  that  the  prepositions  in 
either  branch  of  this  clause,  have  been  supplied 
by  the  translators,  and  are  not  in  the  original.  The 
words  '  flesh'  and  f  spirit,'  in  the  original,  stand 
without  any  preposition,  in  that  case  which,  in  the 
Greek  language,  without  any  preposition,  is  the 
case  either  of  the  cause  or  instrument  by  which — 
of  the  time  when — of  the  place  where — of  the  part 
in  which — of  the  manner  how — or  of  the  respects 
in  which,  according  to  the  exigence  of  the  context; 
and,  to  any  one  who  will  consider  the  original  with 
critical  accuracy,  it  will  be  obvious,  from  the  per- 
fect antithesis  of  these  two  clauses  concerning 
flesh  and  spirit,  that  if  the  word  '  spirit'  denote 
the  active  cause  by  which  Christ  was  restored  to 
life,  which  must  be  supposed  by  them  who  under- 
stand the  word  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  the  word  'flesh' 
must  equally  denote  the  active  cause  by  which  he 
was  put  to  death,  which  therefore  must  have  been 
the  flesh  of  his  own  body;  an  interpretation  too 
manifestly  absurd  to  be  admitted.  But  if  the  word 
'  flesh'  denote,  as  it  most  evidently  does,  the  part 
in  which  death  took  effect  upon  him, '  spirit'  must 
denote  the  part  in  which  life  was  preserved  in  him, 
that  is,  his  own  soul ;  and  the  word  I  quickened' 
is  often  applied  to  signify,  not  the  resuscitation  of 
life  extinguished,  but  the  preservation  and  conti- 
nuance of  life  subsisting.  The  exact  rendering, 
therefore,  of  the  apostle's  words  would  be,  '  Being- 
put  to  death  in  the  flesh,  but  quick  in  the  spirit :' 
that  is,  surviving  in  his  soul  the  stroke  of  death 
which  his  body  had  sustained ;  *  by  which/  or 
rather  'in  which/    that    is,  in  which  surviving 


320        our  lord's  descent  into  hell. 

soul,  *  he  went  and  preached  to  the  souls  of  men 
in  prison/  or  '  in  safe  keeping.' 

It  is  not  to  be  wondered  that  this  text  should 
have  been  long  considered  in  the  church  as  one  of 
the  principal  foundations  of  the  Catholic  belief  of 
Christ's  descent  into  hell :  it  is  rather  to  be  won- 
dered that  so  clear  a  proof  should  ever  have  been 
abandoned.  In  the  articles  of  religion  agreed  upon 
in  convocation  in  the  year  1552,  the  6th  Edward 
the  Sixth,  and  published  by  the  king's  authority 
the  following  year,  the  third  article  is  in  these 
words :  "  As  Christ  died  and  was  buried  for  us,  so 
also  it  is  to  be  believed  that  he  went  down  into 
hell ;  for  the  body  lay  in  the  sepulchre  until  the 
resurrection,  but  his  ghost  departing  from  him,  was 
with  the  ghosts  that  were  in  prison,  or  in  hell,  as 
the  place  of  St.  Peter  doth  testify."  But  in  the 
short  interval  of  ten  years,  between  this  convoca- 
tion, in  the  reign  of  Edward,  and  the  setting  forth 
of  the  thirty-nine  articles  in  their  present  form,  in 
the  5th  of  queen  Elizabeth,  a  change  seems  to  have 
taken  place  in  the  opinions  of  the  divines  of  our 
church  with  respect  to  this  text  of  St.  Peter;  for  in 
the  articles,  as  they  were  then  drawn,  and  we  now 
have  them,  Christ's  descent  into  hell  is  still  asserted, 
but  the  proof  of  it  from  the  text  of  St.  Peter  is 
withdrawn; — as  if  the  literal  sense  of  the  text  which 
affords  the  proof  had  fallen  under  suspicion,  and 
some  other  exposition  of  it  had  been  adopted.  This 
change  of  opinion,  I  fear,  is  to  be  ascribed  to  an 
undue  reliance  of  the  divines  of  that  time  on  the 
authority  of  St.  Austin;  for  St.  Austin  was,  I  think, 
the  first  who  doubted  of  the  literal  sense  of  this  pas- 
sage of  St.  Peter.    He  perplexes  himself  with  some 


BY   BISHOP    HORSLEY.  321 

questions,  which  seemed  to  him  to  arise  out  of  it, 
of  too  great  subtlety  perhaps  to  be  solved  by  man ; 
and  then  he  had  recourse  to  the  usual  but  dan- 
gerous expedient  of  abandoning  the  plain  meaning 
of  the  passage,  for  some  loose,  figurative  interpreta- 
tion, which  presents  a  proposition  of  no  sort  of  dif- 
ficulty to  the  understanding  of  the  critic,  because 
in  truth  it  is  a  proposition  of  his  own  making.  I 
mean  not  to  depreciate  the  character  of  St.  Aus- 
tin. He  was  indeed  in  his  day,  a  burning  and 
a  shining  light ;  and  he  has  been  ever  since,  by  his 
writings,  one  of  the  brightest  luminaries  of  the 
Latin  church ; — a  man  of  warm,  unaffected  piety, 
of  the  greatest  natural  talents  and  the  highest  at- 
tainments, exercised  in  the  assiduous  study  of  the 
holy  Scriptures,  replete  with  sacred  learning,  and 
withal  deeply  versed  in  that  Pagan  lore,  in  which, 
however  it  may  have  been  of  late  shamefully  calum- 
niated, the  soundest  divines  have  always  been  great 
proficients.  In  polite  literature  he  was  the  rival, 
in  science  and  philosophy  the  superior,  by  many 
degrees,  of  his  great  cotemporary  St  Jerome.  But 
it  was  a  culpable  deference  to  the  authority  even 
of  so  great  and  good  a  man,  if  his  doubts  were  in 
any  case  turned  into  objections,  and  the  interpre- 
tation of  Scripture  adjusted  to  opinions  which  he 
himself  propounds  with  doubt  and  hesitation.  Those 
in  latter  time,  who  have  improved  upon  St.  Aus- 
tin's hint  of  figurating  this  passage,  have  succeeded 
no  better  than  they  who  have  made  the  like  at- 
tempt upon  the  article  of  our  Lord's  descent  in  the 
creed.  They  tell  us,  that  by  the  souls  in  prison 
are  to  be  understood  the  Gentile  world  in  bondage 
and  captivity  to  sin  and  Satan,  and  held  in  the 
chains  of  their  own  lusts;  and  for  confirmation  of 


322    our  lord's  descent  into  hell. 

this,  they  refer  to  those  passages  of  the  prophet 
Isaiah  in  which  it  is  predicted  of  Christ,  that  he  is 
to  bring  the  prisoners  out  of  prison,  and  them  that 
sit  in  darkness  out  of  the  prison-house, — that  he  is 
to  say  to  the  prisoners,  '  Go  forth,' — that  he  is  to 
proclaim  liberty  to  the  captives,  and  the  opening  of 
the  prison  to  those  that  are  bound. 

Now,  we  deny  not  that  the  state  of  the  unre- 
generate,  carnal  man,  is  indeed  represented  in 
Scripture  under  the  images  of  captivity  and  bond- 
age, and  his  sinful  lusts  under  the  image  of  chains 
and  fetters ;  but,  with  respect  to  the  alleged  pas- 
sages from  the  prophet  Isaiah, — in  the  last  of  them 
most  indubitably,  and  I  believe  in  all,  but  in  the 
last  without  doubt, — the  prison  is  no  other  than  that 
self-same  place  which  is  the  prison  or  place  of  safe 
keeping  in  this  text  of  St.  Peter,  according  to  our 
notion  of  it.  The  enlargement  of  the  saints  from 
the  confinement  of  that  place  is  the  liberation  pre- 
dicted. Their  souls  in  that  place  are  the  captives 
to  whom  the  Redeemer,  at  the  season  of  his  final 
triumph  over  death  and  hell,  shall  say,  '  Go  forth.' 
These  texts  of  the  prophets,  therefore,  rather  afford 
a  confirmation  of  the  literal  acceptation  of  the  apos- 
tle's words,  than  of  those  jejune  figurative  inter- 
pretations, which  modern  criticism,  scared  at  the 
bugbear  of  purgatory,  would  substitute  for  the 
plain  and  obvious  sense. 

It  cannot,  however,  be  dissembled,  that  difficul- 
ties arise  out  of  the  particular  character  of  the  souls 
in  custody ;  to  which  I  shall  give  such  considera- 
tion as  the  time  will  permit. 

The  souls  in  custody,  to  whom  our  Saviour  went 
in  his  disembodied  soul  and  preached,  were  those 
'  which  sometimes  were  disobedient.'    The  expres- 


BY   BISHOP   HORSLEY.  323 

Bion  'sometime  were/  or  'one  while  had  been, 
disobedient,  implies  that  they  were  recovered,  how- 
ever, from  that  disobedience,  and,  before  their 
death,  had  been  brought  to  repentance  and  faith  in 
the  Redeemer  to  come.  To  such  souls  he  went 
and  preached.  But  what  did  he  preach  to  de- 
parted souls,  and  what  could  be  the  end  of  his 
preaching  ?  Certainly  he  preached  neither  re- 
pentance nor  faith ;  for  the  preaching  of  either 
comes  too  late  for  the  departed  soul.  These  souls 
had  believed  and  repented,  or  they  had  not  been 
in  that  part  of  the  nether  regions  which  the  soul 
of  the  Redeemer  visited.  Nor  was  the  end  of  his 
preaching  any  liberation  of  them  from  we  know 
not  what  purgatorial  pains,  of  which  the  Scriptures 
give  not  the  slightest  intimation.  But  if  he  went 
to  proclaim  to  them  (and  to  proclaim  or  publish  is 
the  true  sense  of  the  word  'to  preach')  the  glad 
tidings  that  he  had  actually  offered  the  sacrifice 
of  their  redemption,  and  was  about  to  appear 
before  the  Father  as  their  intercessor,  in  the  merit 
of  his  own  blood,  this  was  a  preaching  fit  to  be 
addressed  to  departed  souls,  and  would  give  new 
animation  and  assurance  to  their  hope  of  the  con- 
summation in  due  season  of  their  bliss ;  and  this, 
it  may  be  presumed,  was  the  end  of  his  preaching. 
But  the  great  difficulty,  in  the  description  of  the 
souls  to  whom  this  preaching  for  this  purpose  was 
addressed,  is  this,  that  they  were  souls  of  some  of 
the  antediluvian  race.  Not  that  it  at  all  startles 
me  to  find  antediluvian  souls  in  safe  keeping  for  final 
salvation:  on  the  contrary,  I  should  find  it  very  diffi- 
cult to  believe  (unless  I  were  to  read  it  somewhere 
in  the  Bible)  that  of  the  millions  that  perished  in 
the  general  deluge,  all  died  hardened  in  impeni- 

y2 


324        our  lord's  descent  into  hell. 

tence  and  unbelief,  insomuch  that  not  one  of  that 
race  could  be  an  object  of  future  mercy,  beside  the 
eight  persons  who  were  miraculously  saved  in  the 
ark,  for  the  purpose  of  repeopling  the  depopu- 
lated earth.  Nothing  in  the  general  plan  of  God's 
dealings  with  mankind,  as  revealed  in  Scripture, 
makes  it  necessary  to  suppose,  that,  of  the  antedi- 
luvian race  who  might  repent  upon  Noah's  preach- 
ing, more  would  be  saved  from  the  temporal  judg- 
ments than  the  purpose  of  a  gradual  repopulation 
of  the  world  demanded ;  or  to  suppose,  on  the 
other  hand,  that  all  who  perished  in  the  flood  are 
to  perish  everlastingly  in  the  lake  of  fire.  But 
the  great  difficulty,  of  which  perhaps  I  may  be 
unable  to  give  any  adequate  solution,  is  this, — for 
what  reason  should  the  proclamation  of  the  finish- 
ing of  the  great  work  of  redemption  be  addressed 
exclusively  to  the  souls  of  these  antediluvian  peni- 
tents ?  Were  not  the  souls  of  the  penitents  of 
later  ages  equally  interested  in  the  joyful  tidings  ? 
To  this  I  can  only  answer ;  that  I  think  I  have  ob- 
served in  some  parts  of  Scripture,  an  anxiety,  if 
the  expression  may  be  allowed,  of  the  sacred 
writers  to  convey  distinct  intimations  that  the  an- 
tediluvian race  is  not  uninterested  in  the  redemp- 
tion and  the  final  retribution.  It  is  for  this  purpose, 
as  I  conceive,  that  in  the  description  of  the  general 
resurrection,  in  the  visions  of  the  Apocalypse,  it 
is  mentioned  with  a  particular  emphasis,  that  the 
1  sea  gave  up  the  dead  that  were  in  it ;'  which  I 
cannot  be  content  to  understand  of  the  few  per- 
sons— few  in  comparison  of  the  total  of  mankind — 
lost  at  different  times  by  shipwreck,  (a  poor 
circumstaace  to  find  a  place  in  the  midst  of  the 
magnificent  images  which  surround  it,)  but  of  the 


BY  BISHOP   HORSLEY.  325 

myriads  who  perished  in  the  general  deluge,  and 
found  their  tomb  in  the  waters  of  that  raging 
ocean.  It  may  be  conceived,  that  the  souls  of 
those  who  died  in  that  dreadful  visitation,  might 
from  that  circumstance  have  peculiar  apprehensions 
of  themselves  as  the  marked  victims  of  divine 
vengeance,  and  might  peculiarly  need  the  con- 
solation which  the  preaching  of  our  Lord  in 
the  subterranean  regions  afforded  to  these  pri- 
soners of  hope.  However  that  may  be,  thither 
the  apostle  says,  'he  went  and  preached.'  Is  any 
difficulty  that  may  present  itself  to  the  human 
mind,  upon  the  circumstances  of  that  preaching,  of 
sufficient  weight  to  make  the  thing  unfit  to  be  be- 
lieved upon  the  word  of  the  apostle  ?  Or,  are  we 
justified,  if  for  such  difficulties,  we  abandon  the 
plain  sense  of  the  apostle's  words,  and  impose 
upon  them  another  meaning  not  easily  .adapted  to 
the  words,  though  more  proportioned  to  the  capa- 
city of  our  understanding, — especially  when  it  is 
confirmed  by  other  Scriptures, .that  he  went  to  that 
place  ?  In  that  place  he  could  not  but  find  the 
souls  which  are  in  it  in  safe  keeping  ;  and,  in  some 
way  or  other,  it  cannot  but  be  supposed  that  he 
would  hold  conference  with  them ;  and  a  particu- 
lar conference  with  one  class  might  be  the  means, 
and  certainly  could  be  no  obstruction  to  a  general 
communication  with  all.  If  the  clear  assertions  of 
holy  writ  are  to  be  discredited,  on  account  of  diffi- 
culties which  may  seem  to  the  human  mind  to 
arise  out  of  them,  little  will  remain  to  be  believed 
in  revealed,  or  even  in  what  is  called  natural  reli- 
gion :  we  must  immediately  part  with  the  doctrines 
of  atonement — of  gratuitous  redemption— of  justi- 
fication by  faith,  without  the  works  of  the  law — of 


326         our  lord's  descent  into  hell. 

sanctification  by  the  influence  of  the  Holy  Spirit; 
and  we  must  part  at  once  with  the  hope  of  the  re- 
surrection. ■  How  are  the  dead  raised  up,  and 
with  what  body  do  they  come  ?'  are  questions 
more  easily  asked  than  answered,  unless  it  may  be 
an  answer,  to  refer  the  proposer  of  them  to  the  pro- 
mises of  holy  writ ;  and  the  power  of  God  to  make 
good  those  promises. 

Having  now,  I  trust,  shown  that  the  article  of 
Christ's  descent  into  hell  is  to  be  taken  as  a  plain 
matter  of  fact,  in  the  literal  meaning  of  the  words, 
— having  exhibited  the  positive  proof  that  we  find 
of  this  fact  m  holy  writ — having  asserted  the  literal 
meaning  of  my  text,  and  displayed,  in  its  full  force, 
the  convincing  proof  to  be  deduced  from  this  pas- 
sage in  particular,  I  shall  now,  with  great  brevity, 
demonstrate  the  great  use  and  importance  of  the 
fact  itself  as  a  point  of  Christian  doctrine. 

Its  great  use  is  this, — that  it  is  a  clear  confuta- 
tion of  the  dismal  notion  of  death  as  a  temporary 
extinction  of  the  life  of  the  whole  man  ;  or,  what  is 
no  less  gloomy  and  discouraging,  the  notion  of  the 
sleep  of  the  soul  in  the  interval  between  death  and 
the  resurrection.  Christ  was  made  so  truly  man, 
that  whatever  took  place  in  the  human  nature  of 
Christ  may  be  considered  as  a  model  and  example 
of  what  must  take  place,  in  a  certain  due  proportion 
and  degree,  in  every  man  united  to  him.  Christ's 
soul  survived  the  death  of  his  body :  therefore  shall 
the  soul  of  every  believer  survive  the  body's  death. 
Christ's  disembodied  soul  descended  into  hell ; 
thither,  therefore,  shall  the  soul  of  every  believer 
in  Christ  descend.  In  that  place,  the  soul  of 
Christ,  in  its  separate  state,  possessed  and  exercised 
active  powers ;  in  the  same  place,  therefore,  shall 


BY   BISHOP  HORSLEY.  327 

the  believer's  soul  possess  and  exercise  activity. 
Christ's  soul  was  not  left  in  hell ;  neither  shall  the 
souls  of  his  servants  there  be  left  but  for  a  season. 
The  appointed  time  will  come,  when  the  Redeemer 
shall  set  open  the  doors  of  their  prison-house,  and 
say  to  his  redeemed,  •  Go  forth.' 


SERMON    XV. 

THE   LAST   ENEMY. 
BY  DR.  DONNE. 


[Joan  Donne,  bom  1573,  was  made  Dean  of  St.  Paul'*  in  i621,1 
and  died  in  1631.] 


SERMON    XV 

V 


1  Corinthians,  xv.  26. 

The  last  enemy  that  shall  be  destroyed,  is  death. 

This  is  a  text  of  the  resurrection,  and  it  is  not 
Easter  yet ;  but  it  is  Easter  eve ;  all  Lent,  is  but 
the  vigil,  the  eve  of  Easter  :  to  so  long  a  festival  as 
never  shall  end,  the  resurrection,  we  may  well 
begin  the  eve  betimes.  Forty  years  long  was  God 
grieved  for  that  generation  which  he  loved :  let  us 
be  content  to  humble  ourselves  forty  days,  to  be 
fitter  for  that  glory  which  we  expect.  In  the  book 
of  God  there  are  many  songs;  there  is  but  one  La- 
mentation :  and  that  one  song  of  Solomon,  nay, 
some  one  of  David's  hundred  and  fifty  Psalms,  is 
longer  than  the  whole  book  of  Lamentations.  Make 
way  to  an  everlasting  Easter,  by  a  short  Lent;  to  an 
undeterminable  glory,  by  a  temporary  humiliation. 
You  must  weep  these  tears,  tears  of  contrition,  tears 
of  mortification,  before  God  will  wipe  all  tears 
from  your  eyes.  You  must  die  this  death,  this 
death  of  the  righteous,  the  death  to  sin,  before  this 
last  enemv,  death,  shall  be  destroyed  in  you,  and 


332  THE    LAST   ENEMY. 

you  made  partakers  of  everlasting  life,  in  soul  and 
body  too. 

Our  division  shall  be  but  a  short,  and  our  whole 
exercise  but  a  larger  paraphrase  upon  the  words. 
The  words  imply  first,  that  the  kingdom  of  Christ, 
which  must  be  perfected,  must  be  accomplished, 
(because  all  things  must  be  subdued  unto  him,)  is 
not  yet  perfected,  not  accomplished  yet.  Why  ? 
What  lacks  it  ?  It  lacks  the  bodies  of  men,  which 
yet  lie  under  the  dominion  of  another.  When  we 
shall  also  see  by  that  metaphor  which  the  Holy 
Ghost  chooseth  to  express  that  in,  which  is,  that 
there  is  an  enemy,  and  so  a  war,  and  therefore  that 
kingdom  is  not  perfected,  that  he  places  perfect 
happiness,  and  perfect  glory,  in  perfect  peace. 
But  then,  how  far  is  any  state  consisting  of  many 
men,  how  far  the  state  and  condition  of  any  one 
man  in  particular,  from  this  perfect  peace  ?  How 
truly  a  warfare  is  this  life,  if  the  kingdom  of  heaven 
itself  have  not  this  peace  in  perfection  !  And  it 
hath  it  not,  because  there  is  an  enemy :  though  that 
enemy  shall  not  overthrow  it,  yet,  because  it  plots 
and  works,  and  machinates,  and  would  overthrow 
it,  this  is  a  defect  in  that  peace. 

Who  then  is  this  enemy  ?  An  enemy  that  may 
thus  far  think  himself  equal  to  God,  that  as  no 
man  ever  saw  God  and  lived  ;  so  no  man  ever  saw 
this  enemy  and  lived,  for  it  is  death ;  and  in  this  may 
think  himself  in  number  superior  to  God,  that  many 
men  live  who  shall  never  see  God.  But,  quis  homo  is 
David's  question,  which  was  never  answered,  'Is 
there  any  man  that  lives,  and  shall  not  see  death  ?' 
An  enemy  that  is  so  well,  victualled  against  man,  as 
that  he  cannot  want  as  long  as  there  are  men,  for 


BY   DR.    DONNE.  333 

be  feeds  upon  man  himself.  And  so  well  armed 
against  man,  as  that  he  cannot  want  munition, 
while  there  are  men,  for  he  fights  with  our  weapons; 
our  own  faculties,  nay,  our  calamities,  yea,  our 
own  pleasures  are  our  death.  And  therefore  he  is, 
saith  the  text,  *  the  last  enemy.' 

We  have  other  enemies ; — Satan  about  us,  sin 
within  us ;  but  the  power  of  both  these  this  enemy 
shall  destroy;  but  when  they  are  destroyed, he  shall 
retain  a  hostile  and  triumphant  dominion  over  us. 
But  usque  quo,  Domine  P  How  long,  O  Lord  ;  for 
ever  ?  No,  he  shall  be  destroyed  :  we  see  this 
enemy  all  the  way,  and  all  the  way  we  feel  him ; 
but  we  shall  see  him  destroyed.  But  how  ?  or 
when  ?  At  and  by  the  resurrection  of  our  bodies ; 
for,  as  upon  my  expiration,  my  transmigration  from 
hence,  as  soon  as  my  soul  enters  into  heaven,  I 
shall  be  able  to  say  to  the  angels,  I  am  of  the  same 
stuff  as  you,  spirit  and  spirit,  and  therefore  let  me 
stand  with  you,  and  look  upon  the  face  of  your 
God  and  my  God ;  so  at  the  resurrection  of  this 
body,  I  shall  be  able  to  say  to  the  angel  of  the 
great  council,  the  Son  of  God,  Christ  Jesus  him- 
self, I  am  of  the  same  stuff  as  you,  body  and  body, 
flesh  and  flesh ;  and  therefore  let  me  sit  down  with 
you,  at  the  right  hand  of  the  Father,  in  an  everlast- 
ing security  from  this  last  enemy,  death,  who  is 
now  destroyed.  And  in  these  seven  steps  we  shall 
pass  apace,  and  yet  clearly,  through  this  para- 
phrase. 

We  begin  with  this :  that  the  kingdom  of  hea- 
ven hath  not  all  that  it  must  have  to  a  consummate 
perfection,  till  it  have  bodies  too.  In  those  infi- 
nite millions  of  millions  of  generations,  in  which 
the  holy,   blessed,  and  glorious  Trinity  enjoyed 


334  THE    LAST   ENEMY. 

themselves  one  another,  and  no  more,  they  thought 
not  their  glory  so  perfect,  but  that  it  might  receive 
an  addition  from  creatures;  and  therefore  they 
made  a  world,  a  material  world,  a  corporeal  world, — 
they  would  have  bodies.  In  that  noble  part  of  that 
world  which  Moses  called  the  firmament,  that  great 
expansion  from  God's  chair  to  his  footstool,  from 
heaven  to  earth,  there  was  a  defect,  which  God  did 
not  supply  that  day,  nor  the  next ;  but  the  fourth 
day  he  did;  for  that  day  he  made  those  bodies, 
those  great  and  lightsome  bodies,  the  sun,  and 
moon,  and  stars,  and  placed  them  in  the  firmament. 
So  also  the  heaven  of  heavens,  the  presence  cham- 
ber of  God  himself,  expects  the  presence  of  our 
bodies. 

No  state  upon  earth  can  subsist  without  those 
bodies,  men,  of  their  own.  For  men  that  are  sup- 
plied from  others,  may  either  in  necessity,  or  in 
indignation,  be  withdrawn,  and  so  that  state 
which  stood  upon  foreign  legs,  sinks.  Let  the 
head  be  gold,  and  the  arms  silver,  and  the  belly 
brass ;  if  the  feet  be  clay ' — men  that  may  slip  and 
moulder  away — all  is  but  an  image,  all  is  but  a 
dream  of  an  image :  for  foreign  helps  are  rather 
crutches  than  legs.  There  must  be  bodies — men ; 
and  able  bodies,  able  men;  men  that  eat  the  good 
things  of  the  land,  their  own  figs  and  olives;  men 
not  macerated  with  extortions.  They  are  glorified 
bodies  that  make  up  the  kingdom  of  heaven ;  bo- 
dies that  partake  of  the  tjood  of  the  state,  that  make 
up  the  state;  bodies^  able  bodies,  and  lastly,  bodies 
inanimated  with  one  soul,  one  vegetative  soul ;  all 
must  be  sensible  and  compassionate  of  one  another's 

■  Dan.  ii.  31. 


BY   DR.    DONNE.  335 

misery ;  and  especially  the  immortal  soul,  one  su- 
preme soul,  one  religion. 

The  kingdom  of  heaven  must  have  bodies.  King- 
doms of  the  earth  must  have  them ;  and  if  upon 
the  earth  thou  beest  in  the  way  to  heaven,  thou 
must  have  a  body  too,  a  body  of  thine  own,  a  body 
in  thy  possession :  for  thy  body  hath  thee,  and  not 
thou  it,  if  thy  body  tyrannise  over  thee.  If  thou 
canst  not  withdraw  thine  eye  from  an  object  of 
temptation,  or  withhold  thy  hand  from  subscribing 
against  thy  conscience,  nor  thine  ear  from  a  popu- 
lar and  seditious  libel,  what  hast  thou  towards  a 
man  ?  Thou  hast  no  soul,  nay  thou  hast  no  body : 
there  is  a  body,  but  thou  hast  it  not,  it  is  not  thine, 
it  is  not  in  thy  power.  Thy  body  will  rebel  against 
thee  even  in  a  sin :  it  will  not  perform  a  sin,  when, 
and  where  thou  wouldst  have  it :  much  more  will 
it  rebel  against  any  good  work,  till  thou  have  im- 
printed the  marks  of  the  Lord  Jesus,1  which  were 
but  exemplar  in  him,  but  are  essential  and  necessary 
to  thee — abstinences,  and  such  discreet  disciplines 
and  mortifications  as  may  subdue  that  body  to 
thee,  and  make  it  thine :  for  till  then  it  is  but  thine 
enemy,  and  maintains  a  war  against  thee  ;  and  war 
and  enemy  is  the  metaphor  which  the  Holy  Ghost 
hath  taken  here  to  express  a  want,  a  kind  of  imper- 
fectness  even  in  heaven  itself.  Bellum  symbolum 
mall.  As  peace  is  of  all  goodness,  so  war  is  an 
emblem,  a  hieroglyphic  of  all  misery ;  and  that  is 
our  second  step  in  this  paraphrase. 

If  the  feet  of  them  that  preach  peace  be  beauti- 
ful, (and,  *  O,  how  beautiful  are  the  feet  of  them 
that  preach  peace  ! '    The  prophet  Isaiah  asks  the 

'  Gal.  vi.  17. 


33Q,  THE    LAST   ENEMY. 

question,1  and  the  prophet  Nahum  asks*  it,  and 
the  apostle  Paul  asks  it3 — they  all  ask  it,  but 
none  answers  it,)  who  shall  answer  us,  if  we  ask, 
How  beautiful  is  his  face  who  is  the  author  of 
this  peace,  when  we  shall  see  that  in  the  glory  of 
heaven,  the  centre  of  all  true  peace  ?  It  was  the 
inheritance  of  Christ  Jesus  upon  the  earth;  he  had 
it  at  his  birth,  he  brought  it  with  him :  ■ Glory  be  to 
God  on  high,  peace  upon  earth  !'4  It  was  his  pur- 
chase upon  earth :  *  He  made  peace  (indeed  he 
bought  peace)  through  the  blood  of  his  cross.'5  It 
was  his  testament,  when  he  went  from  earth: 
'  Peace  I  leave  with  you ;  my  peace  I  give  unto 
you.'6  Divide  with  him  in  that  blessed  inheritance, 
partake  with  him  in  that  blessed  purchase,  enrich 
thyself  with  that  blessed  legacy, — his  peace. 

Let  the  whole  world  be  in  thy  consideration  as 
one  house ;  and  then  consider  in  that,  in  the  peace- 
ful harmony  of  creatures,  in  the  peaceful  succession 
and  connexion  of  causes  and  effects,  the  peace  of 
nature.  Let  this  kingdom,  where  God  hath  blessed 
thee  with  a  being,  be  the  gallery,  the  best  room  of 
that  house ;  and  consider  in  the  two  walls  of  that 
gallery,  the  church  and  the  state,  the  peace  of  a 
royal  and  a  religious  wisdom.  Let  thine  own 
family  be  a  cabinet  in  this  gallery ;  and  find  in  all 
the  boxes  thereof,  in  the  several  duties  of  wife,  and 
children,  and  servants,  the  peace  of  virtue,  and  of 
the  father  and  mother  of  all  virtues,  active  discre- 
tion, passive  obedience ;  and  then,  lastly,  let  thine 
own  bosom  be  the  secret  box  and  reserve  in  this 
cabinet,  and  then  the  best  jewel  in  the  best  cabinet, 

'•  Chap.  lii.  7.  3  Chap.  i.  15.  8  Rom.  x.  15. 

«  Luke  ii.  14.  {Colos.  i.  20.         6  John  xiv.  27. 


BY    DR.    DONNE.  337 

■*■ 

and  that  in  the  best  gallery  of  the  best  house  that 
can  be  had,  peace  with  the  creature,  peace  in  the 
church,  peace  in  the  state,  peace  in  thy  house, 
peace  in  thy  heart,  is  a  fair  model,  and  a  lovely 
design  even  of  the  heavenly  Jerusalem,  where  there 
is  no  object  but  peace.  ■*- 

And  therefore  the  Holy  Ghost,  to  intimate  to  us 
that  happy  perfectness  which  we  shall  have  at  last, 
and  not  till  then,  chooses  the  metaphor  of  an 
enemy,  and  enmity,  to  avert  us  from  looking  for 
true  peace  from  any  thing  that  presents  itself  in  the 
way.  Neither  truly  could  the  Holy  Ghost  imprint 
more  horror  by  any  word  than  that  which  inti- 
mates war,  as  the  word  enemy  does.  It  is  but  a 
little  way  that  the  poet  hath  got  in  description  of 
war,  Jam  seges  est — that  now,  that  place  is  ploughed 
where  the  great  city  stood:  for  it  is  not  so  great  a 
depopulation  to  translate  a  city  from  merchants  to 
husbandmen,  from  shops  to  ploughs,  as  it  is  from 
many  husbandmen  to  one  shepherd ;  and  yet  that 
hath  been  often  done.  And  all  that,  at  most,  is 
but  a  depopulation,  it  is  not  a  devastation,  that 
Troy  was  ploughed.  But  when  the  prophet  Isaiah 
comes  to  the  devastation,  to  the  extermination  of  a 
war,  he  expresses  it  first  thus  :  'Where  there  were 
a  thousand  vineyards  at  a  cheap  rate,  all  the  land 
became  briars  and  thorns.' x  That  is  much ;  but 
there  is  more — '  The  earth  shall  be  removed  out  of 
her  place ;  that  land,  that  nation,  shall  no  more  be 
called  that  nation,  nor  that  land.'2  But,  yet  more 
than  that  too ;  not  only  not  that  people,  but  no 
other  shall  ever  inhabit  it :  '  It  shall  never  be  in- 
habited from  generation  to  generation,  neither  shall 

1  Isai.  vii.  23.  «  lb.  xiii.  13. 

z 


338  THE    LAST   ENEMY. 

shepherds  be  there ;  not  only  no  merchant,  nor 
husbandman,  but  no  depopuJator ;  none  but  owls, 
and  ostriches,  and  satyrs ;'  •  indeed  God  knows 
what — ochim  and  ziim,  words  which  truly  we  can- 
not translate. 

In  a  word,  the  horror  of  war  is  best  discerned 
in  the  company  he  keeps,  in  his  associates.  And 
when  the  prophet  Gad  brought  war  into  the  pre- 
sence of  David,  there  came  with  him  famine  and 
pestilence.*  And  when  famine  entered,  we  see  the 
effects ;  it  brought  mothers  to  eat  their  children  of 
a  span  long.  And  when  war's  other  companion, 
the  pestilence,  entered,  we  see  the  effects  of  that 
too :  in  less  than  half  the  time  that  it  was  threat- 
ened for,  it  devoured  threescore  and  ten  thousand 
of  David's  men ;  and  yet  for  all  the  vehemence,  the 
violence,  the  impetuousness  of  this  pestilence,  Da- 
vid chose  this  pestilence  rather  than  a  war.  Mili- 
tia and  malitia,  are  words  of  so  near  a  sound,  as 
that  the  Vulgate  edition  takes  them  as  one.  For 
where  the  prophet  speaking  of  the  miseries  that 
Jerusalem  had  suffered,  says,  finita  militia  ejus, 
let  her  warfare  be  at  an  end,'  they  read  jinita 
malitia  ejus,  '  let  her  misery  be  at  an  end  :  '3  war  and 
misery  is  all  one  thing.  But  is  there  any  of  this 
in  heaven  ?  Even  the  saints  in  heaven  lack  some- 
thing of  the  consummation  of  their  happiness,  be- 
cause they  have  an  enemy.  And  that  is  our  third 
and  next  step. 

Michael  and  his  angels  fought  against  the  devil 
and  his  angels;  though  that  war  ended  in  victory, 
yet  (taking  that  war,  as  divers  expositors  do,  for  the 
fall  of  angels)  that  kingdom  lost  so  many  inhabi- 

'  Isai.  xiiL  19.  a  2  Sam.  xxiv.  13.  3  Isai.  xl.  2. 


BY   DR.    DONNE.  339 

tants,  as  that  all  the  souls  of  all  that  shall  be  saved 
shall  but  fill  the  places  of  them  that  fell,  and  so 
make  up  that  kingdom  but«as  well  as  it  was  before 
that  war :  so  ill  effects  accompany  even  the  most 
victorious  war.  There  is  no  war  in  heaven,  yet  air 
is  not  well,  because  there  is  an  enemy ;  for  that 
enemy  would  kindle  a  war  again,  but  that  he  re- 
members how  ill  he  sped  last  time  he  did  so.  It  is 
not  an  enemy  that  invades  neither,  but  only  de- 
tains :  he  detains  the  bodies  of  the  saints  which  are 
in  heaven,  and  therefore  is  an  enemy  to  the  king- 
dom of  Christ.  He  that  detains  the  souls  of  men  in 
superstition,  he  that  detains  the  hearts  and  alle- 
giance of  subjects  in  an  hesitation,  a  vacillation, 
an  irresolution,  where  they  shall  fix  them,  whether 
upon  their  sovereign,  or  a  foreign  power,  he  is 
in  the  notion  and  acceptation  of  '  enemy '  in  this 
text;  an  enemy,  though  no  hostile  act  be  done.  It 
is  not  a  war,  it  is  but  an  enemy ;  not  an  invading, 
but  a  detaining  enemy ;  and  then  this  enemy  is  but 
one  enemy,  and  yet  he  troubles  and  retards  the 
consummation  of  that  kingdom. 

Antichrist  alone  is  enemy  enough  :  but  never 
carry  this  consideration  beyond  thyself.  As  long 
as  there  remains  in  thee  one  sin,  or  the  sinful  gain 
of  that  one  sin,  so  long  there  is  one  enemy ;  and 
where  there  is  one  enemy,  there  is  no  peace.  Gar- 
deners that  husband  their  ground  to  the  best  ad- 
vantage, sow  all  their  seeds  in  such  order,  one 
under  another,  that  their  garden  is  always  full  of 
that  which  is  then  in  season.  If  thou  sin  with  that 
providence,  with  that  seasonableness,  that  all  thy 
spring,  thy  youth  be  spent  in  wantonness;  all  thy 
summer,  thy  middle-age  in  ambition ;  and  the 
ways  of  preferment ;  and  thy  autumn,  thy  winter 

z2 


340  THE    LAST    ENEMY. 

in  indevotion  and  covetousness,  though  thou  have 
no  further  taste  of  licentiousness,  in  thy  middle- 
age,  thou  hast  thy  satiety  in  that  sin, — nor  of  ambi- 
tion in  thy  last  years,  thou  hast  accumulated  titles 
of  honour  ;  yet  all  the  way  thou  hast  had  one  ene- 
my, and  therefore  never  any  perfect  peace.  But 
who  is  this  one  enemy  in  this  text  ?  As  long  as 
we  put  it  off,  and  as  loath  as  we  are  to  look  this 
enemy  in  the  face,  yet  we  must,  though  it  be 
death.  And  this  is  the  fourth  step  in  this  para- 
phrase. 

*  Arise  and  go  down/ '  says  the  prophet  Jeremy, 
that  is,  say  the  expositors,  to  the  consideration  of 
thy  mortality  :  a  descent  with  an  ascension.  Our 
grave  is  upward,  and  our  heart  is  upon  Jacob's 
ladder,  in  the  way,  and  nearer  to  heaven.  Our 
daily  funerals  are  some  emblems  of  that;  for 
though  we  be  laid  down  in  the  earth  after,  yet  we 
are  lifted  up  upon  men's  shoulders  before.  We  rise 
in  the  descent  to  death,  and  so  we  do  in  the  de- 
scent to  the  contemplation  of  it.  In  all  the  pot- 
ter's house,  is  there  one  vessel  made  of  better  stuff 
than  clay  ?  There  is  his  matter.  And  of  all 
forms,  a  circle  is  the  perfectest,  and  art  thou  loath 
to  make  up  that  circle,  with  returning  to  the  earth 
again  ? 

Thou  must,  though  thoti  be  loath.  Fortasse, 
says  St.  Augustine,  (that  word  of  contingency,  of 
casualty,)  '  perchance,'  in  omnibus  ferine  rebus  prcc- 
terquam  in  morte  locum  habet — "  hath  place  in 
all  human  actions  excepting  death."  He  makes 
his  example  thus  : — such  a  man  is  married  ;  where 
he  would,  or  at  least  where  he  must,  where  his  pa- 

1  Jer.  xviii.  2. 


BY    DR.    DONNE.  341 

rents,  or  his  guardian  will  have  him.  Shall  he  have 
children?  For tasse,  says  he — they  are  a  young 
couple,  perchance  they  shall.  And  shall  those 
children  be  sons?  For  tasse — they  are  of  a  strong 
constitution,  perchance  they  shall.  And  shall 
those  sons  live  to  be  men  ?  Fortasse — they  are  from 
healthy  parents,  perchance  they  shall.  And  when 
they  have  lived  to  be  men,  shall  they  be  good 
men ;  such  as  good  men  may  be  glad  they  may 
live?  Fortasse,  still.  They  are  of  virtuous  parents — 
it  may  be  they  shall :  but  when  they  are  come  to 
that  Morientur — shall  those  good  men  die  ?  Here, 
says  that  Father  the  fortasse  vanishes ;  here  it  is  om- 
nino,  certe,  sine  dubitatione — "  infallibly,  inevitably, 
irrecoverably"  they  must  die.  Doth  man  not  die, 
even  in  his  birth  ?  The  breaking  of  prison  is 
death,  and  what  is  our  birth  but  a  breaking  of 
prison  ?  As  soon  as  we  were  clothed  by  God,  our 
very  apparel  was  an  emblem  of  death.  In  the 
skins  of  dead  beasts  he  covered  the  skins  of  dying 
men.  As  soon  as  God  set  us  on  work,  our  very 
occupation  was  an  emblem  of  death.  It  was  to  dig 
the  earth;  not  to  dig  pitfals  for  other  men,  but 
graves  for  ourselves.  Hath  any  man  here  forgot 
to-day,  that  yesterday  is  dead  ?  And  the  bell  tolls 
for  to-day,  and  will  ring  out  anon ;  and  for  as 
much  of  every  one  of  us,  as  appertains  to  this  day. 
"  We  die  every  day,  and  we  die  all  the  day  long ; 
and  because  we  are  not  absolutely  dead,  we  call 
that  an  eternity,  an  eternity  of  dying,"1  says  St. 
Jerome.  And  is  there  comfort  in  that  state  ? 
Why,  that  is  the  state  of  hell  itself— eternal  dying, 
and  not  dead. 

But  for  this  there  is  enough  said,  by  the  moral- 

1  Quotidie  morimur,  et  tamen  nos  esse  aeternos  putamus. 


342  THE    LAST   ENEMY. 

ist;  (that  we  may  respite  divine  proofs,  for  di- 
vine points  anon — for  our  several  resurrections;)  for 
this  death  is  merely  natural,  and  it  is  enough  that 
the  moralist  says,  Mors  lex,  tributum,  officium 
mortalium.1  First  it  is  lex,  you  were  born  under 
that  law,  upon  that  condition,  to  die :  so  it  is  a  re- 
bellious thing  not  to  be  content  to  die,  it  opposes 
the  law.  Then  it  is  tributum,  an  imposition  which 
nature,  the  queen  of  this  world,  lays  upon  us,  and 
which  she  will  take  when  and  where  she  list; 
here  a  young  man,  there  an  old  man;  here  a  happy, 
there  a  miserable  man :  and  so  it  is  a  seditious 
thing  not  to  be  content  to  die  ;  it  opposes  the  pre- 
rogative. And  lastly,  it  is  officium :  men  are  to 
have  their  turns,  to  take  their  time,  and  then  to 
give  way  by  death  to  successors  ;  and  so,  not  to  be 
content  to  die,  opposes  the  frame  and  form  of  go- 
vernment. It  comes  equally  to  us  all,  and  makes 
us  all  equal  when  it  comes.  The  ashes  of  an  oak 
in  the  chimney,  are  no  epitaph  of  that  gak,  to  tell 
me  how  high  or  how  large  that  was :  it  tells  me  not 
what  flocks  it  sheltered  while  it  stood,  nor  what 
men  it  hurt  when-  it  fell.  The  dust  of  great  per- 
sons' graves  is  speechless  too ;  it  says  nothing,  it 
distinguishes  nothing.  As  soon  the  dust  of  a  wretch 
whom  thou  wouldst  not,  as  of  a  prince  whom 
thou  couldst  not  look  upon,  will  trouble  thine 
eyes,  if  the  wind  blow  it  thither;  and  when  a 
whirlwind  hath  blown  the  dust  of  the  church-yard 
into  the  church,  and  the  man  sweeps  out  the  dust 
of  the  church  into  the  church-yard,  who  will  un- 
dertake to  sift  those  dusts  again,  and  to  pronounce — 
This  is  the  patrician ;  this  is  the  noble  flour,  and  this 
the  yeomanly,  this  the  plebeian  bran.     So  is  the 

1  Seneca. 


BY   DR.   DONNE.  343 

death  of  Jezabel  (Jezabel  was  a  queen)  expressed  : 
'  They  shall  not  say,  this  is  Jezabel ;'  not  only  not 
wonder  that  it  is,  nor  pity  that  it  should  be,  but  they 
shall  not  say — they  shall  notknow-*-This  is  Jezabel. 
It  comes  to  all,  to  all  alike ;  but  not  alike  welcome 
to  all.  To  die  too  willingly — out  of  impatience  to 
wish,  or  out  of  violence  to  hasten  death ;  or  to  die 
too  unwillingly — to  murmur  at  God's  purpose  re- 
vealed by  age,  or  by  sickness,  are  equal  distempers ; 
and  to  harbour  a  disobedient  loathness  all  the  way, 
or  to  entertain  it  at  last,  argues  but  an  irreligious 
ignorance — an  ignorance,  that  death  is  in  nature 
but  an  expiration,  a  breathing  out,  and  we  do  that 
every  minute;- — an  ignorance  that  God  himself 
took  a  day  to  rest  in,  and  a  good  man's  grave  is  his 
sabbath  ; — an  ignorance  that  Abel,  the  best  of  those 
whom  we  can  compare  with  him,was  the  first  that 
died.  Howsoever,  whensoever,  all  times  are  God's 
times :  "  God  calls  the  good  to  take  them  from 
their  dangers,  and  God  takes  the  bad  to  take  them 
from  their  triumph."1  And  therefore  neither 
grudge  that  thou  goest,  nor  that  worse  stay,  for 
God  can  make  his  profit  of  both :  God  reprieves 
him  to  mend  him,  or  to  make  another  better  by  his 
exercise.  And,  not  to  exult  in  the  misery  of  an- 
other, but  to  glorify  God  in  the  ways  of  his  justice, 
let  him  know, '  how  long  soever  he  live,  how  long 
soever  he  lie  sick,  that  man  dies  a  sudden  death, 
who  never  thought  of  it.'3  If  we  consider  death  in 
St.  PauPs  statutum   egt,    *  it  is   decreed    that   all 

1  Vocantur  boni  ne  diutius  vexentur  a  noxiis,  mali  ne  diutius 
bonos  persequanlur. — August. 

"  Aut  ideo  vivitut  corrigatur,  aut  ideo  ut  per  ilium  bonus  ex- 
erceatur. 

3  Quantumcunque  sero,  subitb  ex  hac  vita  tollitur,  qui  finem 
pra?videre  nescivit. — Gregor. 


344  THE    LAST   ENEMY. 

men  must  die/ — there  death  is  indifferent.  If  we 
consider  it  in  his  mori  lucrum,  ( that  it  is  an  ad- 
vantage to  die,' — there  death  is  good  ;  and  so  much 
the  Vnig  ite  edition  seems  to  intimate,  when,  whereas 
we  read,  (Deut.  xxx.  19,)  'I  have  set  before  you  life 
and  death,'  that  reads  it,  vitam  et  bonum,  *  life,  and 
that  which  is  good/  If  then  death  be  at  the  worst 
indifferent,  and  to  the  good,  good,  how  is  it  an 
'  enemy'  to  the  kingdom  of  Christ  ?  for  that  is  the 
fifth  and  next  step  in  this  paraphrase. 

First,  God  did  not  make  death,  says  the  wise  man.1 
And  therefore  St.  Augustine  makes  a  reasonable 
prayer  to  God  :  "  Suffer  not,  O  Lord,  death,  whom 
thou  didst  not  make,  to  have  dominion  over  me 
whom  thou  didst."3  Whence  then  came  death  ? — 
The  same  wise  man  hath  showed  us  the  father: 
through  envy  of  the  devil,  came  death  into  the 
world  ;3  and  a  wiser  than  he,  the  Holy  Ghost  himself, 
hath  showed  us  the  mother :  'By  sin  came  death  into 
the  world.'4  But  yet  if  God  have  naturalized  death, 
taken  death  into  the  number  of  his  servants,  and 
made  death  his  commissioner  to  punish  sin,  and 
he  do  but  that,  how  is  death  an  enemy  ?  First  he 
was  an  enemy  in  invading  Christ,  who  was  not  in 
his  commission,  because  he  had  no  sin ;  and  still 
he  is  an  enemy,  because  still  he  adheres  to  the 
enemy.  Death  hangs  upon  the  edge  of  every  per- 
secutor's sword ;  and  upon  the  sting  of  every 
calumniator's,  and  accuser's  tongue.  In  the  bull  of 
Phalaris,  in  the  bulls  of  Basan,  in  the  bulls  of 
Babylon — the  shrewdest  bulls' of  all — in  temporal, 

1  Sap.  i.  13. 

8  Ne  permittas,  Domine,  quod  non  fecisti,  dominari  creaturae 
quam  fecisti.— Sap.  i.  13. 

3  Sap.  ii.  lilt  4  Rom.  v.  12. 


BY    DR.   DONNE.  345 

in  spiritual  persecutions — ever  since  God  put  an 
enmity  between  man  and  the  serpent,  from  the 
time  of  Cain  who  began  in  a  murder,  to  the  time 
of  Antichrist,  who  proceeds  in  massacres — death 
hath  adhered  to  the  enemy,  and  so  is  an  enemy. 

Death  hath  a  commission: — 'The  reward  of  sin 
is  death;'  but  whereas  God  gives  a  supersedeas,  upon 
that  commission — '  As  I  live,  saith  the  Lord,  I  would 
have  no  sinner  die' —  not  die  the  second  death — yet 
death  proceeds  to  that  execution.  And  whereas  the 
enemy,  whom  he  adheres  to,  the  serpent  himself, 
hath  power  but  upon  the  heel,  the  lower,  the  mor- 
tal part,  the  body  of  man,  death  is  come  up  into 
our  windows,'1  saith  the  prophet,  into  our  best 
lights,  our  understandings,  and  benights  us  there, 
either  with  ignorance  before  sin,  or  with  senseless- 
ness after;  and  a  sheriff  that  should  bum  him, 
who  were  condemned  to  be  hanged,  were  a  mur- 
derer, though  that  man  must  have  died :  to  come 
in  by  the  door,  by  the  way  of  sickness  upon  the 
body,  is,  but  to  come  in  at  the  window  by  the  way 
of  sin,  is  not,  death's  commission ;  God  opens  not 
that  window. 

So  then  he  is  an  enemy ;  for  they  that  adhere  to 
the  enemy  are  enemies ;  and  adhering  is  not  only 
a  present  subministration  of  supply  to  the  enemy, 
(for  that  death  doth  not,)  but  it  is  also  a  disposition 
to  assist  the  enemy,  then  when  he  shall  be  strong 
enough  to  make  benefit  of  that  assistance.  And  so 
death  adheres:  when  sin  and  Satan  have  weakened 
body  and  mind,  death  enters  upon  both.  And  in 
that  respect  he  is  the  last  enemy ;  and  that  is  our 
sixth  and  next  step  in  this  paraphrase. 

f  Jer.  ix.  21. 


346  THE    LAST    ENEMY. 

Death  is  the  last,  and  in  that  respect  the  worst 
enemy.  In  an  enemy,  that  appears  at  first,  when 
we  are  or  may  be  provided  against  him,  there  is 
some  of  that  which  we  call  honour ;  but  in  the 
enemy  that  reserves  himself  unto  the  last,  and  at- 
tends our  weak  estate,  there  is  more  danger.  Keep 
it,  where  I  intend  it,  in  that  which  is  my  sphere, 
the  conscience.  If  mine  enemy  meet  me  betimes  in 
my  youth,  in  an  object  of  temptation,  (so  Joseph's 
enemy  met  him  in  Potiphar's  wife,)  yet,  if  I  do  not 
adhere  to  this  enemy — dwell  upon  a  delightful  me- 
ditation of  that  sin ;  if  I  do  not  fuel  and  foment 
that  sin,  assist  and  encourage  that  sin  by  high  diet, 
wanton  discourse,  other  provocation  ;  I  shall  have, 
reason  on  my  side,  and  I  shall  have  grace  on  my 
side,  and  I  shall  have  the  history  of  a  thousand 
that  have  perished  by  that  sin  on  my  side.  Nay, 
perchance  sometimes  the  virtue  of  that  woman, 
whom  I  solicit,  will  assist  me.  But,  when  I  lie 
under  the  hands  of  that  enemy  that  hath  reserved 
himself  to  the  last — to  my  last  bed — then,  when  I 
shall  be  able  to  stir  no  limb  in  any  other  measure 
than  a  fever  or  a  palsy  shall  shake  them*;  when 
everlasting  darkness  shall  have  an  incohation  in  the 
present  dimness  of  mine  eyes,  and  the  everlasting 
gnashing  in  the  present  chattering  of  my  teeth, 
and  the  everlasting  worm  in  the  present  gnawing* 
of  the  agonies  of  my  body,  and  anguishes  of  my 
mind  ;  when  the  last  enemy  shall  watch  my  re- 
mediless body  and  my .  disconsolate  soul  there, 
where  not  the  physician,  in  his  way,  perchance  not 
the  priest  in  his,  shall  be  able  to  give  any  assist- 
ance;  and,  when  he  hath  sported  himself  with  my 
misery  upon  that  stage.,  my  death-bed  shall  shift 
the  scene,  and  throw  me  from  that  bed  into  the 


BY    DR.   DONNE.  347 

grave,  and  there  triumph  over  me,  God  knows, 
how  many  generations,  till  the  Redeemer,  my  Re- 
deemer, the  Redeemer  of  all  me,  body  as  well  as 
soul,  come  again ; — as  death  is  the  enemy  which 
watches  me  at  my  last  weakness,  and  shall  hold 
me,  when  I  shall  be  no  more,  till  that  angel  come, 
*  who  shall  say,  and  swear  that  time  shall  be  no 
more:' — in  that  consideration,  in  that  apprehension, 
he  is  the  powerfulest,  the  fearfulest  enemy.  And 
yet  even  there  this  enemy  shall  be  destroyed ; 
which  is  our  seventh  and  last  step  in  this  para- 
phrase. 

This  destruction,  this  abolition  of  this  last  enemy, 
is  by  the  resurrection ;  for  the  text  is  part  of  an 
argument  for  the  resurrection.  And  truly,  it  is  a 
fair  intimation,  and  testimony  of  an  everlasting  end 
in  that  state  of  the  resurrection — that  no  time  shall 
end  it — that  we  have  it  presented  to  us  in  all  the 
parts  of  time  ;  in  the  past,  in  the  present,  and  in  the 
future.  We  had  a  resurrection  in  prophecy ;  we 
have  a  resurrection  in  the  present  working  of  God's 
Spirit;  we  shall  have  a  resurrection  in  the  final 
consummation.  The  prophet  speaks  in  the  future : 
1  He  will  swallow  up  death  in  victory  ;' l  there  it  is 
abolebit,  'he  will  destroy.'  All  the  evangelists 
speak  historically  of  matter  of  fact ;  in  them  it  is 
abolevit,  '  he  has  destroyed.'  And  here,  in  this 
apostle,  it  is  in  the  present,  aboletur, '  now  he  is  de- 
stroyed.' And  this  exhibits  unto  us  a  threefold 
occasion  of  advancing  our  devotion,  in  considering 
a  threefold  resurrection ;  first,  a  resurrection  from 
dejections  and  calamities  in  this  world,  a  temporary 
resurrection ;  secondly,  a  resurrection  from  sin,  a 

1  Isaiah,  xxv.  8. 


348  THE    LAST   ENEMY. 

spiritual  resurrection ;  and  then  a  resurrection  from 
the  grave,  a  final  resurrection. 

1.  From  calamity  :  when  the  prophets  speak  of 
a  resurrection  in  the  Old  Testament,  for  the  most 
part  their  principal  intention  is  upon  a  temporal 
restitution  from  calamities  that  oppress  them  then. 
Neither  doth  Calvin  carry  those  emphatical  words, 
which  are  so  often  cited  for  a  proof  of  the  last  re- 
surrection— '  that  he  knows  his  Redeemer  lives, 
that  he  knows  he  shall  stand  the  last  man  upon 
earth,  that  though  his  body  be  destroyed,  yet  in 
his  flesh  and  with  his  eyes  he  shall  see  God,'1  to 
any  higher  sense  than  so,  that  how  low  soever  he 
be  brought,  to  what  desperate  state  soever  he  be 
reduced  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  yet  he  assures 
himself  of  a  resurrection,  a  reparation,  a  restitution 
to  his  former  bodily  health,  and  worldly  fortune 
which  he  had  before.  And  such  a  resurrection  we 
all  know  Job  had. 

In  that  famous  and  most  considerable  prophetical 
vision  which  God  exhibited  to  Ezekiel,  where  God 
set  the  prophet  in  a  valley  of  very  many,  and  very 
dry  bones,  and  invites  the  several  joints  to  knit 
again,  ties  them  with  their  old  sinews  and  liga- 
ments, clothes  them  in  their  old  flesh,  wraps  them 
in  their  old  skin,  and  calls  life  into  them  again ; 
God's  principal  intention  in  that  vision  was  thereby 
to  give  them  an  assurance  of  a  resurrection  from 
their  present  calamity ;  but  not  that  there  is  also 
good  evidence  of  the  last  resurrection  in  that  vision 
too.  Thus  far  God  argues  with  them  a  re  nola  ; — 
from  that  which  they  knew  before,  the  final  resur- 
rection; he  assures  them  that  which  they  knew  not 

•  Job,  xix.  25. 


BY    DR.    DONNE.  349 

till  then — a  present  resurrection  from  those  pres- 
sures. '  Remember  by  this  vision,  that  which  you  all 
know  already,  that  at  last  I  shall  re-unite  the  dead, 
and  dry  bones  of  all  men  in  a  general  resurrection. 
And  then,  if  you  remember,  if  you  consider,  if  you 
look  upon  that,  can  you  doubt,  but  that  I,  who  can 
do  that,  can  also  recollect  you,  from  your  present 
desperation,  and  give  you  a  resurrection  to  your 
former  temporal  happiness  V  And  this  truly  arises 
pregnantly,  necessarily,  out  of  the  prophet's  answer. 
God  asks  him  there,  *  Son  of  man,  can  these  bones 
live  V  And  he  answers, '  O  Lord  God,  thou  know- 
est.'  The  prophet  answers  according  to  God's  in- 
tention in  the  question.  If  that  had  been  for  their 
living  in  the  last  resurrection,  Ezekiel  would  have 
answered  God  as  Martha  answered  Christ,  when 
he  said,  '  Thy  brother  Lazarus  shall  rise  again  ;' — *  I 
know  that  he  shall  rise  again  at  the  resurrection  at 
the  last  day  ;' '  but  when  the  question  was,  whether 
men  so  macerated,  so  scattered  in  this  world,  could 
have  a  resurrection  to  their  former  temporal  happi- 
ness here,  that  puts  the  prophet  to  his,  '  O  Lord, 
thou  knowest.'  It  is  in  thy  breast  to  propose  it;  it 
is  in  thy  hand  to  execute  it;  whether  thou  do  it,  or 
do  it  not,  thy  name  be  glorified.  It  falls  rtot  within 
our  conjecture,  which  way  it  shall  please  thee  to  take 
for  this  resurrection  :  *  Thou  Lord,  and  thou  only 
knowest.'  Which  is  also  the  sense  of  those  words : 
1  Others  were  tortured,  and  accepted  not  a  deliver- 
ance, that  they  might  obtain  a  better  resurrection.'3 
A  present  deliverance  had  been  a  resurrection,  but 
to  be  the  more  sure  of  a  better  hereafter,  they  less 
respected  that.    According  to  that  of  our  Saviour, 

'  John,  xi.  24.  »  Heb.  xi.  35. 


350  THE   LAST   ENEMY. 

'  He  that  finds  his  life  shall  lose  it  ;M  he  that  fixeth 
himself  too  earnestly  upon  his  resurrection  shall 
lose  a  better.  • 

This  is  then  the  prophetical  resurrection  for  the 
future,  but  a  future  in  this  world ;  that  if  rulers 
take  counsel  against  the  Lord,  .the  Lord  shall  have 
their  counsel  in  derision  ;2  if  they  take  arms  against 
the  Lord,  the  Lord  shall  break  their  bows,  and  cut 
their  spears  in  sunder ;  if  they  hiss  and  gnash  their 
teeth,  and  say, — We  have  swallowed  him  up ;  if  we 
be  made  their  by-word,  their  parable,  their  proverb, 
their  libel,  the  theme  and  burden  of  their  songs,  as 
Job  complains;  yet,  whatsoever  fall  upon  me,  da- 
mage, distress,  scorn,  or '  the  last  enemy,'  death  itself, 
that  death  which  we  consider  here,  death  of  posses- 
sions, death  of  estimation,  death  of  health,  death  of 
contentment ; — yet  abolebitur,  it  shall  be  destroyed  in 
a  resurrection,  in  the  return  of  the  light  of  God's 
countenance  upon  me  even  in  this  world.  And  this 
is  the  first  resurrection. 

2.  But  this  first  resurrection,  which  is  but  from 
temporal  calamities,  doth  so  little  concern  a  true 
and  established  Christian,  whether  it  come  or  no, 
(for  still  Job's  basis  is  his  basis,  and  his  centre; 
though  he  kill  me — kill  me  in  all  these  several 
deaths,  and  give  me  no  resurrection  in  this  world, 
yet  I  will  trust  in  him,)  it  is  as  though  this 
first  resurrection  were  no  resurrection,  not  to 
be  numbered  among  the  resurrections.  St.  John 
calls  that  which  we  call  the  second,  which  is  from 
sin,  the  first  resurrection :  '  Blessed  and  holy  is  he, 
who  hath  part  in  the  first  resurrection.'3  And  this 
resurrection  Christ  implies,  when  he  says,  '  Verily, 

1  Matt.  x.  39.  2  Psalm  ii.  4.  3  Apoc.  xx.  6. 


BY   DR.   DONNE.  351 

verily,  I  say  unto  you,  the  hour,  is  coming,  and 
now  is,  when  the  dead  shall  hear  the  voice  of 
the  Son  of  God  ;  and  they  that  hear  it  shall  live:'1 
that  is,  by  the  voice  of  the  word  of  life,  the  gospel 
of  repentance,  they  shall  have  a  spiritual  resurrec- 
tion to  a  new  life. 

St.  Austin  and  Lactantius  both  were  so  hard  in 
believing  the  roundness  of  the  earth,  that  they 
thought  that  those  homines  pensiles,  as  they  call 
them — those  men  that  hang  upon  the  other  cheek 
of  the  face  of  the  earth — those  antipodes,  whose  feet 
are  directly  against  ours,  must  necesarily  fall  from 
the  earth,  if  the  earth  be  round.  But  whither 
should  they  fall  ?  if  they  fall,  they  must  fall  up- 
wards, for  heaven  is  above  them  too,  as  it  is  to  us. 
So  if  the  spiritual  antipodes  of  this  world,  the  sons 
of  God,  that  walk  with  feet  opposed  in  ways  con- 
trary to  the  sons  of  men,  shall  be  said  to  fall,  when 
they  fall  to  repentance,  to  mortification,  to  a  reli- 
gious negligence,  and  contempt  of  the  pleasures  of 
this  life,  truly  their  fall  is  upwards — they  fall  to- 
wards heaven.  '  God  gives  breath  unto  the  people 
upon  the  earth,'  says  the  prophet,  '  and  spirit  to 
them  that  work  therein.'8  Our  translation  carries 
that  no  further ;  but  Irenaeus  makes  a  useful  dif- 
ference between  'breath'  and  'spirit' — that  God 
gives  breath  to  all  upon  earth,  but  his  Spirit  only 
to  them  who  tread  in  a  religious  scorn  upon  earthly 
things. 

Is  it  not  a  strange  phrase  of  the  apostle,  '  Mor- 
tify your  members  ;  fornication,  uncleanness,  inor- 
dinate affections?'3  He  does  not  say,  mortify 
your  members  against  those  sins,  but  he  calls  those 

1  John,  v.  25.  *  Isaiah,  xlv.  6.         3  Col.  iii.  5. 


352  THE    LAST    ENEMY. 

very  sins  the  members  of  our  bodies,  as  though  we 
were  elemented  and  compacted  of  nothing  but  sin, 
till  we  come  to  this  resurrection,  this  mortification, 
which  is  indeed  our  vivification  ;  *  till  we  bear  in 
our  body  the  dying  of  our  Lord  Jesus,  that  the 
life  also  of  Jesus  may  be  made  manifest  in  our 
body."  God  may  give  the  other  resurrection  from 
worldly  misery,  and  not  give  this.  A  widow  may 
be  rescued  from  the  sorrow  and  solitariness  of  that 
state,  by  having  a  plentiful  fortune  ;  there  she  hath 
one  resurrection  ;  but  '  the  widow  that  liveth  in 
pleasure,  is  dead  while  she  lives;'8  she  hath  no 
second  resurrection  ;  and  so  in  that  sense,  even  this 
chapel  may  be  a  church-yard,  men  may  stand,  and 
sit,  and  kneel,  and  yet  be  dead  ;  and  any  chamber 
alone  may  be  a  golgotha,  a  place  of  dead  men's 
bones,  of  men  not  come  to  this  resurrection,  which 
is  the  renunciation  of  their  beloved  sin. 

It  was  inhumanly  said  by  Vitellius,  upon  the 
death  of  Otho,  when  he  walked  in  the  field  of  car- 
casses, where  the  battle  was  fought,  "  O  how  sweet 
a  perfume  is  a  dead  enemy ! "  But  it  is  a  divine 
saying  to  thy  soul,  "  O  what  a  savour  of  life,  unto 
life,  is  the  death  of  a  beloved  sin  !"  What  an  an- 
gelical comfort  was  that  to  Joseph  and  Mary  in 
Egypt,  after  the  death  of  Herod,  '  Arise,  for  they 
are  dead  that  sought  the  child's  life  !  '3  And  even 
that  comfort  is  multiplied  upon  thy  soul,  when  the 
Spirit  of  God  says  to  thee,  Arise,  come  to  this  resur- 
rection ;  for  that  Herod,  that  sin,  that  sought  the 
life,  the  everlasting  life  of  this  child,  the  child  of 
God,  thy  soul,  is  dead  by  repentance,  dead  by  mor- 
tification.    The  highest  cruelty  that  story  relates, 

'  2  Cor.  iv.  Ik  *  1    l'im.  v.  6.  3  Mat.  ii.  20. 


BY   DR.    DONNE.  353 

or  poets  imagine,  is  when  a  persecutor  will  not 
afford  a  miserable  man  death — not  be  so  merciful 
to  him  as  to  take  his  life.  Thou  hast  made  thy  sin, 
thy  soul,  thy  life ;  inanimated  all  thy  actions,  all 
thy  purposes  with  that  sin.  Have  pity  on  thy  soul 
— be  so  merciful  to  thyself,  as  to  take  away  that  life 
by  mortification,  by  repentance,  and  thou  art  come 
to  this  resurrection :  and  though  a  man  may  have 
the  former  resurrection,  and  not  this, — peace  in  his 
fortune,  and  yet  not  peace  in  his  conscience,  yet 
whosoever  hath  this  second,  hath  an  infallible  seal 
of  the  third  resurrection  too,  to  a  fulness  of  glory 
in  body,  as  well  as  in  soul.  For  spiritus  maturam 
efficit  camem,  et  capacem  incorruptelce  ;  this  resur- 
rection by  the  spirit,  mellows  the  body  of  man, 
and  makes  that  capable  of  everlasting  glory,  which 
is  th©  last  weapon,  by  which  the  last  enemy,  death, 
shall  be  destroyed.1 

3.  Upon  that  pious  ground  that  all  Scriptures 
were  written  for  us,  as  we  are  Christians;  that  all 
Scriptures  conduce  to  the  proof  of  Christ,  and  of  the 
Christian  state ;  it  is  the  ordinary  manner  of  the 
Fathers  to  make  all  that  David  speaks  historically 
of  himself,  and  all  that  the  prophet  speaks  futurely 
of  the  Jews,  if  those  places  may  be  referred  to 
Christ,  to  refer  them  to  Christ  primarily;  and  but 
by  reflection,  and  in  a  second  consideration  upon 
David,  or  upon  the  Jews.  Thereupon  do  the  Fa- 
thers (truly  I  think  more  generally,  more  unani- 
mously, than  in  any  other  place  of  Scripture) 
take  that  place  of  Ezekiel  which  we  spoke  of  be- 
fore, to  be  primarily  intended  of  the  last  resurrec- 
tion, and  but  secondarily  of  the  Jews'  restitution. 

1   trenaus. 

A  A    - 


354  THE    LAST   ENEMY. 

But  Gasper  Sanctius,  a  learned  Jesuit,  (that  is  not 
so  rare — but  an  ingenuous  Jesuit  too,)  though  he 
be  bound,  by  the  Council  of  Trent,  to  interpret 
Scriptures  according  to  the  Fathers,  yet  here  he 
acknowledges  the  whole  truth,  that  God's  purpose 
was  to  prove,  by  that  which  they  did  know,  which 
was  the  general  resurrection,  that  which  they  knew 
not,  their  temporal  restitution.  Tertullian  is  vehe- 
ment at  first,  but  after,  more  supple.  Allegorica 
Scripture,  says  he,  resurrect  ionetn  subradiant  alia, 
alia  determinant :  some  figurative  places  of  Scrip- 
ture do  intimate  a  resurrection,  and  some  manifest 
it ;  and  of  those  manifest  places  he  takes  this  vision 
of  Ezekiel  to  be  one.  But  he  comes  after  to  this, 
sit  et  corporum,  et  rerum,  et  med  nihil  interest :  let 
it  signify  a  temporal  resurrection,  so  it  may  sig- 
nify the  general  resurrection  of  our  bodies  -  too, 
says  he,  and  I  am  well  satisfied  ;  and  then  the 
truth  satisfies  him,  for  it  doth  signify  both.  It  is 
true  that  Tertullian  says,  de  vacuo  similitudo  nan 
competit ;  if  the  vision  be  but  a  comparison,  if 
there  were  no  such  thing  as  a  resurrection,  the 
comparison  did  not  hold.  De  nullo  parabola  non 
convenit,  says  he,  and  truly  :  if  there  were  no  resur- 
rection to  which  that  parable  might  have  relation, 
it  were  no  parable.  All  that  is  true :  but  there 
was  a  resurrection  always  known  to  them,  always 
believed  by  them ;  and  that  made  their  present  re- 
surrection from  that  calamity  the  more  easy,  the 
more  intelligible,  the  more  credible,  the  more  dis- 
cernible to  them. 

Let,  therefore,  God's  method  be  thy  method  :  fix 
thyself  firmly  upon  that  belief  of  the  general  resur- 
rection, and  thou  wilt  never  doubt  of  either  of  the 
particular  resurrections,  either  from  sin,  by  God's 


BY   DR.    DONNE.  355 

grace,  or  from  worldly  calamities,  by  God's  power. 
For  that  last  resurrection  is  the  ground  of  all.  By 
that  vere  victa  mors,  says  Irenaeus — this  last  enemy, 
death,  is  truly  destroyed;  because  this  last  spoil, 
the  body,  is  taken  out  of  his  hands.  The  same 
body,  eadem  ovis,  (as  the  same  Father  notes.) 
Christ  did  not  fetch  another  sheep  to  the  flock,  in 
the  place  of  that  which  was  lost,  but  the  same 
sheep  :  God  shall  not  give  me  another,  a  better 
body  at  the  resurrection,  but  the  same  body  made 
better  ;  for  if  the  flesh  of  man  were  not  to  be  saved, 
the  Divine  Word  would  never  have  taken  the  flesh 
of  man  upon  him.1 

The  punishment  that  God  laid  upon  Adam,  *  In 
sweat  and  in  sorow  shalt  thou  eat  thy  bread,'8  is 
but  *  till  man  return  to  dust:'  but  when  man  is 
returned  to  dust,  God  returns  to  the  remembrance 
of  that  promise,  '  Awake,  and  sing,  ye  that  dwell 
in  the  dust.'3  A  mercy  already  exhibited  to  us, 
in  the  person  of  our  Saviour,  Christ  Jesus;  in  whom, 
(says  St.  Chrysostom)  as  God,  by  taking  a  handful 
for  the  first  fruits,  gave  a  blessing  to  the  whole 
field,  so  he  hath  sealed  the  bodies  of  all  mankind 
to  his  glory,  by  pre-assuming  the  body  of  Christ  to 
that  glory.  For  by  that  there  is  now  commercium 
inter  caelum  et  terrain* — there  is  a  trade  driven,  a 
staple  established,  between  heaven  and  earth ;  ibi 
caro  nostra,  hie  Spiritus  ejus  ;  thither  have  we  sent 
our  flesh,  and  hither  hath  he  sent  his  Spirit. 

This  is  the  last  abolition  of  this  enemy,  death  ; 
for,  after  this,  the  bodies  of  the  saints  he  cannot 


1  Si  non  haberet  caro  salvari,  neutiquam  Verbum  Dei  caro 
factum  fuisset. — Idem. 

*  Gen.  iii.  17.  *  Isaiah,  xvi.  19.        *  Bernard. 


366  THE    LAST    ENEMY. 

touch,  the  bodies  of  the  damned  he  cannot  kill ; 
and  if  he  could,  he  were  not  therein  their  enemy, 
but  their  friend.  This  is  that  blessed  and  glorious 
state,  of  which,  when  all  the  apostles  met  to  make 
the  creed,  they  could  say  no  more,  but  '  I  believe 
the  resurrection  of  the  body ;'  and  when  those  two 
reverend  Fathers,  to  whom  it  belongs,  shall  come 
to  speak  of  it,  upon  the  day  proper  for  it,  in  this 
place,  and  if  all  the  bishops  that  ever  met  in  coun- 
cils should  meet  them  here,  they  could  but  second 
the  apostles'  credo,  with  their  anathema.  We  be- 
lieve, and  woe  be  unto  them  that  do  not  believe,  the 
resurrection  of  the  body  ;  but  in  going  about  to  ex- 
press it  the  lips  of  an  angel  would  be  uncircum- 
cised  lips,  and  the  tongue  of  an  archangel  would 
stammer.  I  offer  not  therefore  at  it ;  but  in  respect 
of,  and  with  relation  to  that  blessed  state,  accord- 
ing to  the  doctrine,  and  practice  of  our  church,  we 
do  pray  for  the  dead, — for  the  militant  church  upon 
earth,  and  the  triumphant  church  in  heaven,  and 
the  whole  catholic  church  in  heaven,  and  earth ; 
we  pray  that  God  will  be  pleased  to  hasten  that 
kingdom,  that  we  with  all  others  departed  in  the 
true  faith  of  his  holy  name,  may  have  this  perfect 
consummation,  both  of  body  and  soul  in  his  ever- 
lasting glory.     Amen. 


THE    END. 


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